A Clockwork Headroom
by Preciousheart93
Summary: When teenage gangs start terrorizing the streets, Edison and Theora meet Alex Burgess in hopes that he's the mastermind behind it. Though Alex claims to be innocent, a tragic incident would prove that he's not as "cured" as he claims to be.
1. Chapter 1

"This is Edison Carter, coming to you live and direct from Network 23…"

The main control room of the TV corporation Network 23 buzzed with its usual action, taking all the steps that were needed to make sure the live broadcast ran smoothly, like clockwork. Idle workers fell out of pace with the machine and faltered, lingered behind to watch the network's star reporter onscreen. Most of the workers, though, were too busy with transmission to focus on anything else. They could not stop to enjoy the picture because they were working hard at making sure the picture came through in the first place.

Two near-permanent fixtures of the network control room sat and stood, respectively, at ease in one of the far-flung corners of the room. Theora Jones, Network 23's most talented controller, sat oblivious to all but the world within the TV screen that she peered so intently at, watching and listening to every mere detail of the news broadcast. Behind her stood Murray, the network's producer, his stance and countenance less relaxed and his eyes equally glued to the screen, murmuring words of criticism or of praise every now and then to the person on TV. Their rapt attention was synonymous, their gaze and even their breaths beginning to fall into place as they were captured and captivated by the person on which the entire broadcast hinged, their friend and fellow Network 23 employee Edison Carter.

Theora's favorite part of live broadcasting- and really anytime she was working as Edison's controller while he scouted out stories, or went on assignment- was the visceral experience it provided, the sense of being connected so closely to another person. She saw through the eyes of Edison's camera, heard everything that his microphone picked up. And on the flip side, if she spoke into the headset she wore at all times when working, Edison would be able to hear her and reply. As long as she wore the headset, and he wore the microphone, they would always be able to communicate. It gave Theora an odd comfort to know exactly where Edison was and what he was doing at all times, just in case of the occasional danger.

The story for today's broadcast was the aftermath of one of those occasional dangers, one that had frightened the populace of the city for several weeks and, even while currently quelled, still had the potential to flare up any moment. Theora gazed with passive indifference upon Edison's familiar face, the red letters in the top left corner of the screen blinking with the sole word of hope- LIVE. In a commanding, enrapturing tone that was sure to draw viewers to their TV sets, Edison began his opening authoritative spiel. He had walked out of Network 23's station rehearsing it just fifteen or so minutes ago.

"Today marks the beginning of the end of a sudden era of violence among the streets of our city. For weeks our citizens have been afraid to walk alone at night, for the threat of a blade at their back and a lecherous hand at their hip. A rise in organized gang activity has caused us to password-protect our doors and peep out from behind our curtains. Today, the Metrocops have finally uncovered the lair of these young evildoers."

Theora watched rapturously as Edison rose to his feet and lifted the camera onto his shoulders, treating the audience of surely thousands to exactly what was going on in the city. On the opposite side of a dusty street in the Fringes from where Edison was standing, a swarm of Metrocops marched countless young boys out from an abandoned building, blocking the criminals' attempts to escape with quiet apathy. Each boy struggled with all of his might to break free of the bonds clamped around their wrists, writhing and shouting obscenities to their guardians. Their overdramatic screams for help were so loud that Theora winced before remembering how dangerous they were. "Shame on you, brothers!" one boy was heard crying, twisting in the Metrocop's grasp. "We will oobivat you all when we break from the Staja! Are you slooshying? WE WILL _OOBIVAT _YOU!"

"What the hell is he saying?" Murray muttered quietly under his breath, a comment that somehow reached Theora's ears. "What language is that?"

"I've got no idea," Theora admitted, watching as Edison moved forward across the street with his camera, zooming in on the murderous eyes of the teenage vagabonds. He narrated the spectacle with a paradoxically detached, yet impassioned tone.

"For two weeks now, these delinquents have hidden away in a run-down warehouse, dragging their female victims back here for rape and occasionally bringing other victims here to hurt them as well. The criminals are all male, and all are teenagers. Their behavior is something that cannot be explained by our modern society. Where have these individuals, some of them just barely out of boyhood, learned that such sickening cruelty is acceptable? How are they not pacified by the simple thrill of watching TV? The animalistic behavior of these teenagers suggests that our city could do a better job of confining potential violence, nipping gang activity in the bud. Or perhaps there are higher forces at work here." The camera zoomed out to reveal the tenth and final criminal being led into a waiting Metrocop van.

"That's our Edison," Murray commented. "Managing to find something suspicious even on mundane assignments."

"This assignment can hardly be considered mundane," Theora replied softly. "The apprehension of criminals is an event that will affect our society completely." Personally, she was highly relieved that the boys' lair had been found, and not only because it meant fewer all-nighters at work.

Just before Edison closed out with his final repetition of the words that had opened the broadcast, the tenth boy in line suddenly twisted in the grip of the Metrocop that was leading him forward. "Let me GO, you bratchny!" He tried to lunge forward out of the reach of the Metrocop, but his bound hands made it harder for him to maneuver. The remaining men standing guard rushed forward, and Edison's camera zoomed in closer.

"I think this is the most action we're going to see all night," Murray said. "Still makes for good viewing, though."

And then the boy spat a sentence that changed not only the course of the night, but the course of the following weeks as well. "STOP! I want to govoreet with Edison Carter! I want to govoreet with the chelloveck over there!" Onscreen, Theora could see his hand flailing before the group of authority figures, singling out Edison from all the other people in the rapturous crowd that the event had drawn. Boos rose up as the boy struggled against his captors.

"Did you hear that too, Control?" Edison murmured into his microphone, his voice showing less surprise than interest.

"Heard it loud and clear, Edison," Theora answered.

The next thing she knew, the camera's image began to move forward- Edison was walking past the throng of people, past the guards who blocked the citizens from getting too close, and heading straight for the violent young man who was swiftly being recaptured by the Metrocops. There was only time for Murray's despairing "Oh, hell," before the boy was tossed roughly into the back of the police truck and the back was closed up in no time. The crowd burst into cheers that drowned out whatever Edison was going to say. He made sure to say it, however, and say it loudly as the cheers died down and the truck rumbled to life.

"Hey!" It was apparent from the image on the camera, though Edison would never accidentally jostle it, that he was speeding up, racing towards the van that was preparing to leave. "He wanted to talk to me! Don't go away! HEY!"

"Why is he getting hung up on this?" Murray said aloud. "It's not the first time someone's talked to him while on assignment!"

Theora had no answer for Murray. She watched helplessly as the Metrocops descended, crowding around Edison and stopping him from getting any closer to the van. _"Dammit-" _she heard him swear, and the screen filled with the faces of the Metrocops ever so politely telling him to stand back with their ever so polite strong arms. "That kid said he wanted to talk to me!"

"Edison, you're making too big a deal out of this," Theora said to him before Murray could. Hands were reaching for the camera, making her stomach drop, even though she knew rationally that they weren't really there.

"Cut it off," Murray muttered, right before the screen went black and the word DISCONNECTED popped up before Theora's eyes. Someone had shut the video camera off, for better or for worse.

"I wonder what that was all about?" Theora mused, turning around to face Murray and lifting her headset up off of her head. Murray's only response was to shake his head and sigh.

"I wish Edison would have better sense than to run off after a criminal in the middle of a broadcast." He looked away, agitation flashing in his eyes. "Let's just hope that he makes it back here safely, and doesn't stumble across any potential stories on the way back."

Theora allowed herself one giggle and then gazed expectantly upwards as Murray continued, "As soon as Edison gets here, you can go home. Take the night off, rest up a bit. You need it." He blinked and amended his statement. "Hell, we all do."

"Thank you, Murray," Theora responded, running her fingers through her tousled brown hair. She had been looking forward to finally catching the teenage gang- no more worrisome nights sitting at the controls in the TV station, following Edison as he stalked the dangerous streets trying to find the source of the crimes. At last, she had time to sleep safely.

Murray nodded idly, and then sighed once more. "You wanna bet how pissed off he's going to be when he arrives here?"

"I'd bet, but I'm not sure about the odds," Theora said, pushing herself up from her seat to clear her workstation. That was when, minutes after Edison's face had disappeared from the screen, he was replaced by his more dramatic, occasionally insufferable virtual likeness. In the blink of an eye, Max Headroom dominated one of Theora's smaller computer monitors, wearing a put out expression and ready to complain in a demanding tone, "C-c-c-can I c-c-come out now-now-now?"

"Hello, Max," Theora greeted the frustrated CGI.

"Oh, d-d-d-don't you hello-hello-hello M-Max to m-m-me-me," Max groaned. "D-d-do you know how l-l-long I've b-been waiting-waiting-waiting for Ed-Edison to f-f-f-finish his br-broadcast-broadcast? T-t-t-too long if you ask-ask-ask me! I tried-tried to re-re-return to Network-Network-Network 23, but all the- all the- all the damn mo-mo-monitors were taken over by my l-l-lesser half! And ev-ev-everyone in the ci-city was watching-watching. The most exci-exci-exciting place to b-be was B-B-Bryce's, and he's w-w-working on some project-project-project and s-said I c-c-couldn't distract-distract-_distract _him."

"The whole city was watching? That'll be great for the ratings," Murray muttered, while Theora tried to pacify Max on the screen. "I'm sorry, Max, but Edison ran a bit overtime… was there anything you wanted to say to us?"

"On-on-only for Edison-Edison-Edison," Max pouted. "I-I-I have a few ch-ch-ch-choice words for him-him-him when he gets b-back here!"

"You never complained about this before," Murray turned to tell Max, obviously already fed up with his presence.

"Th-th-th-that's because-cause I've ha-ha-ha-had it now-now!" Max declared angrily. "I'm t-t-t-tired of b-b-being tied to one-one-one network-work. Su-sure, I can c-c-c-cruise down whatever-ever ch-ch-channel I w-want, but it's 2-2-23 that always-ways-ways relies on _me_ to p-promote them. And-and here I am-am-am, waiting _not-not-not _so patient-patient-patiently to sp-spe-speak with you-you-you, and you w-watch Ed-Ed-_Edison _over m-me-me-me!"

"I hope this isn't indicative of Edison's true feelings," Murray told Theora.

"I H-H-HEARD THAT," Max glared directly at Murray, who stared back as if he just wasn't sure what to do with Max- which, come to think of it, was the way he stared at Max more than half of the time.

"We have no other choice but to watch Edison," Theora pointed out. "It's our network's job. You'll have to learn to wait your turn when you want to speak with anyone here."

"Max, were you watching Edison's broadcast?" Murray asked, cutting into the conversation. "Do you know why Edison wanted to talk with the boy that called his name?"

"Oh, gr-gr-great!" Max grumbled. "N-n-now you're leaping-leaping-leaping to conclusions! I-I-I wasn't w-watching Edison's br-br-broadcast-broadcast! How c-c-c-could I have been-been-been? J-j-just because I-I-I can vis-visit any TV-TV-TV that I w-w-want in the ci-city, d-d-doesn't m-mean that I should-should-should-should _know _about every-every-everything that go-goes on! I-I-If-f-f you're only-only-only g-going to use-use-use me as a source-ce-ce of infor-infor-information, I m-m-might as well say _adieu! Adieu! Adieu!" _With that final word of French, Max disappeared from Theora's screen, to be replaced by television static.

"My, he's certainly gotten testy recently," Murray said. "I hope this doesn't mean a revolution is in our midst."

It didn't take very long afterwards before Max's flesh and blood equivalent showed up. Edison burst through the doors of Network 23, full of trembling energy and powerfully sweeping eyes. Theora noticed, from her refuge behind the computer, that if she and Murray had made the bet, the money would have fallen in her favor. Many times Theora had seen Edison stalk into Network 23's headquarters, quivering with rage, and rush to find Murray so that he could explode at him. On every occasion, the room would fall quiet with hushed whispers as the eyes of every employee turned towards the disgraced reporter. Now, Theora could see that Edison was a bit annoyed, from the clenched fists balling up his coat, but his purposeful stride suggested that he was less irritated with the Metrocops having prevented him from speaking with the teen criminal and more focused on dreaming up ways to launch his next assignment.

Praised as a top-notch reporter with a strong sense of ethics by his allies. Hated by his enemies for always getting the last word or finding a fresh angle on their reports. Called out as a cad, a playboy, in his younger days, and still bearing the subtle smirk and sarcasm to all his friends. All of these qualities flashed from Edison Carter's lacerating brown eyes, everything that he was to Theora, with one essential element missing, a line that she refused to cross even as it grew thinner every day. He swept across the floor in the direction of Murray, while various network employees gazed at his back. They had realized that something had gone on after the broadcast, and were hungry for details, but none of them dared to ask just yet, knowing that any discussions to be had would be met with and approved by Murray firsthand.

"You're not angry?" Murray asked as Edison reached him, halting in the middle of the floor, and up close Theora could see that Murray was wrong even before Edison shook his head. Murray didn't have as close a tie to Edison, not being his controller and linked by a shared aural and visual connection, and most likely was not used to reading Edison's body language as Theora was. Now she could see that his eyes were bright with excitement, not sparks of frustration, and his lips were twisted in an intense half-smile rather than a grimace. Anyone else could have misread these signals, but Theora understood exactly what was going on in Edison's mind. She stood up and crossed the room to properly greet him.

"No, Murray, I'm not angry per se," Edison was explaining as Theora reached him. "They were right to pull the plug. I just wanted to know what that boy had to tell me. It might have been important."

"It's nice to hear you realize someone other than yourself was right for once," Murray said, though his words held no barbs, and Edison gave him a mock eye-roll. "Don't make too much out of this."

"You did a good job tonight, Edison," Theora took the opportunity to say, and he shrugged off the compliment with a smirk in his voice. "All in a day's work."

Murray gave Edison humble congratulations as well. "It was a simple wrap-up, but you handled it well, all up to the point where you rushed off." He met Edison's scorching gaze levelly. "Tell me, why did you want to talk to that boy so badly?"

"Well, didn't you hear him?" Edison said, slipping his hands into his coat pockets. "He wanted to talk to me. I said already that it might have been important."

"I'm not sure," Theora said. "I wouldn't trust any of those criminals any farther than I could throw."

"Which is how far exactly?" Edison ribbed, glancing over. Theora folded her arms across her breasts. "I'll have you know I'm not as weak as I look, Edison. Growing up surrounded by boys in foster homes taught me a thing or two about throwing, especially throwing punches…"

"Hm," Edison muttered humorously, but his mind had turned onto other topics. "We'll see about that someday. Anyway…" He returned his attention to Murray, who was saying goodnight to an employee, and waited until Murray was facing him once more. "I asked the Metrocops to call me on the viewphone if the boy they caught has anything to say to me. They're probably going to call here, so I think I might as well stay a bit longer tonight."

"Oh no, you're not," Murray started to protest, before Theora, in an attempt to quell an ensuing argument, jumped in with "You don't have to stay any longer than you normally would. I'll stick around down here and monitor the m- computer until the call comes through." So much for her beauty sleep, but if it was for Edison's sake, she couldn't complain.

"You need to get some rest," Murray finished his sentence. "It's been how long since the two of you had a full eight hours of sleep?"

"Aw, Theora, you don't have to stay up all night for me," Edison said, lowering his tone of voice a hair, and Theora gazed helplessly at him for a moment before reprimanding herself in her head and blinking to clear her mind. Sometimes after a broadcast, it was difficult to distinguish the televised image of Edison from the real life version. Such things became even murkier when Max decided to make an appearance. She was sure that if Murray or any other network employee had offered to stay awake working for Edison, he wouldn't have denied them. This wasn't the first time Edison had shown special preference and lenience towards Theora, and though she hated to admit it, he still had the power to weaken her resolve.

"I thought you'd love to keep me up all night," Theora teased, turning the statement into a joke- how had Edison not seen the bait? He needed to keep his wits sharper than that. Edison blinked, and a wry grin filled his face, his voice slipping into a naughty tone. "Why, Theora, I didn't think you had it in you."

"You've known me for too long for me to believe _that," _Theora dismissed his comment, and Edison looked ready to retaliate with a playful jab before Murray announced, "Children, please…" The two turned their attention back to Murray and sulked like the kids they had been called out as. "Edison's right; it's not necessary for you to stay here tonight, Theora. You both have been working hard enough throughout the past few weeks and you need to go home and take some time off tonight. I'll stay behind at the TV station and forward the call to Edison if they drop by here."

"But you've been working harder than either of us, Murray," Theora tried to say, before the nearby viewphone came to life, projecting the face of a Metrocop to all that could see. "Edison Carter, are you there?" The trio turned around, and Edison went immediately to the viewphone, sitting down to get a clear view of the Metrocop. He took the call. "Yeah, I'm here. What is it?"

"Looks like none of us will have to stay behind," Theora whispered in Murray's ear. He only muttered something incoherent and moved away to listen to Edison's conversation while standing out of view of the Metrocop on the other end of the line. Theora, for her part, chose to merely hover behind Edison's shoulder.

"About the kids we picked up tonight…" the Metrocop began. "Well, none of 'em are talking to us. They're just sitting there with their mouths clamped shut, facing the wall. The ones that do talk are using some weird made-up language that we can't figure out where it comes from. And the only one that's speakin' English just keeps demanding to talk to you, over and over."

"Will you let me see him now?" Edison asked, a hint of irritation breaking through his composure. The man on the viewphone nodded. "He said the only way he'd get the boys to fess up to their crimes is if you're the first to hear his story. Don't ask me why. Maybe he has a thing for network television."

"Could be," Edison murmured, and the Metrocop stepped away from the viewphone, to be replaced by another Metrocop leading the same scrawny, blond-haired teenager with defiant eyes from the arrests that had happened only an hour ago up to the device. He was forced to sit down and then stare blankly into the screen, at last murmuring in a creaky voice, "Hi hi hi there, my brother."

"Hello," Edison greeted the boy, starting to slip into his interviewing mode. Theora stepped off to the side like Murray and watched the screen from afar. "What's your name?"

The boy raised his chin high. "My eemya is Les, oh my brother," he said. "And you are Edison Carter, one of the most like great and high lewdies of this modern age of like network TV."

"What slang are you using?" Edison questioned right off the bat. "I've never heard anything like it before."

"It is called nadsat-talk, my dear brother," Les replied, his eyes flickering about restlessly as if he was watching someone nearby. In the background, Theora could hear cries of pain, followed by guards or Metrocops harshly barking, "Move it!" She shivered and tried to keep following the conversation.

"But," Les continued, "I won't skazat another slovo with you unless you promise to do my like bidding. I have viddied you many many times on the TV, oh my brother. I know that you can be like trusted with a story. And because of this, I have asked my brothers to like bind their tongues and not skazat one malenky slovo to any of the millicents until I have like told you everything there is to know about our crimes. What you do with the like information is not any of my like business, but I would like to know if you decide we deserve to be convicted for very very long."

Theora saw Edison narrow his eyes, and she knew he was doubting Les's authority. Sure enough, the first thing he said was, "It's a nice sentiment, Les, but either way you look at it, I have no real say in the matter. If your story convinces me to fight for your cause, great, but there's no getting around the fact that we know you've robbed unsuspecting citizens, defaced public property, and beaten up and raped many of the people living in our city. That kind of rap sheet doesn't get you a mere year in prison, kid."

"All I am trying to skazat," Les wheedled, "is that you slooshy my side of the story, oh my brother. Think you can do that?"

Edison nodded. "As long as you don't try to deny the acts you pulled off."

With no introduction, Les launched straight into his story. "My brothers and I come from a mesto across the river. The like city is called London." His light eyebrows arched above his forehead. "I am like convinced you've heard of it."

"Of course," Edison said, his tone suggesting that he wished Les would just cut to the chase. "It's Britain's capital. Everyone knows that."

Les snorted. "You think!"

"Why did you decide to leave London and come to our city, Les?" Edison questioned, and the boy twisted his hands together, gazing resentfully away as he answered. "It was not a like decision that I made all on my oddy knocky, oh my brother. We were told to go as a group- all of my brothers and I who are now so sadly committed to this vonny mesto known as the Staja." The flicker in his eye hinted that Les wanted to make Edison feel sorry for him, but Edison would have none of it and merely stared into the viewphone, waiting for Les to continue. Finally the boy drew a dramatic sigh from the depths of his lungs and went on with his tale.

"What I want you to pony, oh my brother, is that we did not like arrive here in your fair city out of our own free will. No! Instead, we were like told to come here by a truly like higher authority. He ordered us, and we could not disagree. It is for him and only him that we carry out these like meaningless and senseless acts of violence!" The melodramatic tones of Les's voice made Theora want to laugh. She half expected to see him tremble with passion and throw his hand over his forehead, palm up.

Edison, however, was not to fall for the weak excuse. "I sincerely doubt that you were brainwashed into acting against your own nature," he said in a massive understatement. "Come on, Les. Why did you commit the crimes that you claim to be guilty of?"

For a moment Les actually shut up, contemplating his words, and although Edison left his reasons for wanting to know unsaid, Theora could guess both of them. For starters, it was clear to anyone who had been watching Edison's broadcast an hour ago that none of the boys in the gang were going to get a fair trial in court, and that they would all be convicted. No one else wanted to know why the boys behaved so violently. All that mattered was that they were locked away, their crimes soon forgotten, the horror erased from the public's memory.

The second reason, Theora guessed, was more her own curiosity than Edison's. She wanted to know what would drive Les, who seemed, under other circumstances, to be a decent young man, to rape defenseless women and beat innocent people to death. Such actions were a relic of the past, as Edison had just discussed in his broadcast. No modern human with a balanced mind and a TV set would dare to brazenly defy the laws of the city. Was it out of anger that Les attacked- and if so, how could such anger sprout in his mind at a young age? Or did he truly enjoy hurting others? Was it just a result of peer pressure from his older brethren?

At last Les's mouth twisted into a smirk, and he settled back heavily in his seat, the rough hand of the Metrocop still on him. "You are not the first to want to know," he told Edison, glancing up at the man who was holding him captive in place. "But you are the first I will tell. All of my droogs, the malchicks I regularly hang out with, began to govoreet one day of a great veck they had slooshied about, who had committed every crime known to man at the age of fifteen. Eventually I met this veck, and he was so like compelling, my brother- so unlikely to know that he did all those vesches and was only thrown in the Staja like once! So now that we were all in great great awe of him, my brother, he had the complete power to like control us and tell us to do whatever he wanted, to go wherever we wanted." Suddenly Les grinned a wild grin, shrugging his shoulders. "But the idea was just appealing, I suppose."

"Okay," Edison said, setting his hands down on the table before him and getting to the crucial question. "Who was this man?" Theora could see then that Edison had become less interested in trying to possibly clear the names of the teen criminals, and more interested in the man who had controlled Les and compelled him to commit senseless acts of violence in the first place. He was looking to attack the evil from its source, or at least lead the MetroCops to the root of the gang activity.

"I cannot like give that away, oh my brother," Les declared in a sing-song voice. "If any of my droogs and I skazat the eemya of our fair leader, he will damn us."

"According to the law, the crimes you've committed ensure that you're already damned," Edison informed Les sternly, his voice tight. "Now tell me his name."

Les sighed, as if he'd been expecting Edison to pull that trick on him, and at last replied reluctantly. "His name is Alexander Burgess. If you're looking to find him in the city's files, you won't, because he lives in London." He bent his head, mumbling, "At least you can't prosecute him…"

"Excuse me? Why can't he be prosecuted?" Edison asked, but Les only raised his head to meet Edison's gaze, staring so hard at him that Theora almost felt like Les was in the same room. "What are you going to do about me?"

"Prosecution," Edison said smoothly, standing up. "I'm sorry, Les, but you're going to have to do some time. There are no laws that condone the murder of innocents." His hand moved as he got ready to end the conversation, and Les cried out at once, seeing his chance of freedom slip away. "Hey! I thought you were going to help me!" he roared. "I thought you were going to make sure I got free!"

"I never implied that," Edison said. "I'm sorry, kid. I would have helped you if ou were innocent, but the law is the law." Theora wasn't aware that she had inched closer and closer to the viewphone until Les, snarling, leapt at the screen as if he could reach through it and sink his fingernails into Edison's bare throat. At the sight of the sudden attack, Theora lurched backwards, retreating to the depths of the shadows beside the viewphone. Edison glanced briefly at her, and then returned his gaze to the screen as the Metrocop led Les away, the boy still howling in nadsat-talk all the while. A few moments later, the man came back empty-handed and sighed.

"We're gonna throw the whole lot in jail by tomorrow. There's no time for _You The Jury_- it's pretty clear what our citizens would unanimously agree to." He reached towards the disconnect button on the viewphone. "Thank you for standing by to listen, Mr. Carter. Take care."

"There's one last thing I wanted to know," Edison said, and the Metrocop sighed, pausing his hand inches away from the disconnect button. "Can't it wait for tomorrow?"

"Are you going to follow the crime to London?" asked Edison, his eyes peering inquisitively into the image of the Metrocop's until they almost seemed to burn holes in the viewphone's screen. The Metrocop shook his head. "Once the crime's done with here, it's out of our hands in any other city. Now you have a good night." The screen blinked with a DISCONNECTED symbol, and Edison blinked up at Theora.

"What did you make of that?" he asked.

"It's a lot to take in," she responded. Behind her, Murray came out of the shadows.

"I can't believe they're going to let the story end there," Edison said, getting swiftly up from his seat. "Not when there's another criminal out there causing these boys to harm their fellow citizens and brainwashing them into violence."

"Edison, you didn't seriously believe all of Les's story…" Theora began.

He looked up to pierce her with his gaze. "Why would he have given us a name if he was lying? It doesn't add up…"

"But chasing a criminal to London is not our concern at the moment," Murray said, briefly passing a hand across his face. His guard had dropped somewhere during the conversation between Les and Edison, and he now looked as if he needed sleep as badly as Edison and Theora did. "Our concern right now is to take the night off and rest. The story's finished, Edison. The Metrocops will handle any crimes that pop up in London."

"But if we're to prevent this from happening in our city again, this Alexander Burgess from London must be apprehended," Edison said with a note of challenge in his voice. He crossed his arms over his chest, and Theora saw Murray out of the corner of her eye rubbing his temples, not wanting to continue the conversation. "Like I said, the London Metrocops will handle it. It's too late to be arguing about this, Edison. Let's all just go home."

"Hear, hear," Theora cried, making for her workspace to clear away whatever items she had brought during the day. Murray gave a slight nod and made for the exit. "Goodnight, team. I'll see you tomorrow. Remember, just because we finished a story tonight doesn't mean there won't be any stories to find tomorrow."

"Goodnight, Murray," Theora and Edison called in contrasting tones. Once the producer was out of sight, Theora turned to her workstation and cleared off her few personal belongings, while Edison watched behind her back. His voice rang out- "You need any help?"

"I don't need someone to walk me home, if that's what you're asking," Theora said, whirling around again and pushing past Edison. She threw him a sparkling glance over her shoulder. "Thanks to you, there's no more danger on the streets."

"Maybe," Edison murmured. "Maybe not." He raised his voice as she walked away. "Goodnight, Theora."

"Goodnight, Edison." Theora pushed her way out the swinging doors and made for the elevator.


	2. Chapter 2

Back home in her penthouse apartment, Theora took the time to load the electric tea-maker and change into a fluffy bathrobe with matching slippers before sitting down and watching the one viewphone message she had received all day. Kent's familiar hooded, sleepy eyes and slicked-back dark hair surfaced on her screen. "Hi, Theora. I watched Network 23's broadcast tonight and wanted to congratulate you on catching the criminals. I'm sorry I can't make it to the apartment tonight, but I hope we can set a date later this week. See you then." The message faded away, and Theora pushed her chair back and sighed.

It had been too long since she'd seen Kent- so long, in fact, that sometimes she forgot she was even in a relationship. They had been on a couple of dates before the gang crime had started, and were forced into communicating through viewphone after that, because of Theora's long working hours and Kent's fear of the criminals on her behalf. The fact that Theora hadn't told anyone yet that she was in a relationship also lent it an air of unreality. She didn't often discuss her private life unless it came up naturally in conversation, and besides, part of Theora was worried about the reaction at work- namely, what Edison would think. The first time she had accidentally let it slip that she was seeing someone, Edison had acted surly and moody around her, seeming not to believe that she would willingly date anyone. Since then, Theora had childishly tried to keep any budding relationships on the down-low, in order not to bruise Edison's ego. But it wasn't always easy when the boyfriend gave her presents…

Theora rose from her seat at the viewphone and went over to her breakfast table, plucking the shiny necklace off of it and holding it before her eyes. It seemed an old-fashioned gift for Kent to give her, but the dangling, glittery charms spoke of his deep affection, even if they weren't worth much. An odd sentiment rose in her mind- _Diamonds are forever. _She racked her brain to think of where she had heard it before, but drew a blank. Most likely it came from an ancient poet of some sort.

No longer afraid of prying eyes, Theora clasped Kent's present around her neck and fastened it carefully in the back. She roused to look at herself in a nearby mirror, heart thudding for an unknown reason as she turned this way and that, trying to find the best angle to suit her appearance. Up close, the necklace reminded Theora of the cheap trinkets she had had as an excuse for jewelry during her girlhood days. She frowned the slightest bit, lightly biting her plump lower lip. To wear this necklace was to seal the deal. Anyone would be able to tell from looking at her that she was involved with a man, and intended to keep her relations as such. Kent would surely be pleased- but what would the folks at work think? What would _Edison _think?

"Edison can keep his opinions to himself," Theora muttered, and her words brought on an unconscious smile. Since when had Edison ever kept his opinions to himself? Raising her eyes to the glass, Theora was struck so violently with the image of her humored self that she quickly looked away, drawing back from the mirror. If she was ever caught at home laughing over Edison… Theora returned to the tea-maker and drew her cup out, taking a brief sip before wincing at its heat and retiring at last to her spacious and comfortable bed, where she channel-surfed by the TV while waiting for the tea to cool. Nightly programming was crap more often than not, so after a while Theora started to drift away, her eyelids growing heavy.

Her last thoughts before the TV lulled her to sleep were of Edison Carter, a forbidden topic during the day, but one that Theora thought of altogether too much at night. Right from the start, Edison had been a bit of a stud around her- his words from the one time he had visited her apartment still surfaced occasionally in her memory; _"How's your head?" "Fine. How's yours?"- _and equally a bit of a mystery. Vanna Smith, Patty Ashman- these were names that meant more to Edison than Theora would ever be able to figure out. Talking to the evasive Max wouldn't help, and Theora didn't want to pry into Edison's personal life, not after he had done the same to her. She had called him out on it, and now digging into his files would be hypocritical. But all the same, Theora often wondered who Edison had been, and how he had gotten so far in life.

Why was she so curious about him? She wasn't in love with him. She didn't like him any more than a controller had to like their assigned reporter. They were friends, but only occasionally met outside of work. Why did Theora continue to pursue Edison in her mind? Perhaps it was because of his obvious strong attraction towards her. He had made more innuendo-loaded quips to her than she had ever heard in her life. It wouldn't have bothered Theora if she was able to believe it was mere joking… but she had seen Edison's personal dreams flashing on a TV screen, as clear as day, and her face had filled the majority of them. Not even in sleep could one trick and delude oneself into believing anything, not even if subliminally-penetrating advertisements existed on TV.

Still, there was the question of whether Edison wanted physical gratification or a true relationship. Theora hadn't seen him with a romantic partner yet, so she wasn't sure what his normal behavior was towards girlfriends.

But why was Theora even thinking of this when she had Kent in her life?

By this point, Theora had fallen asleep, her mind a confusing tumult of emotions, the teacup sliding out of her hand's loosening grip and the necklace still clasped around her neck, digging into her skin like ice.

The viewphone woke Theora up early the next morning, and she jolted forward from her position of lying on her side, shock dancing through her and then dissolving as if she had spilt last night's hot tea on herself. Which, Theora discovered as she took stock of her situation and surveyed the bedsheets, it appeared she had. The dark liquid had seeped into her sheets and now left an indelible stain. _Damn… _Just as Theora was about to get up to retrieve the teacup and find something to clean her sheets with, she noticed that the viewphone was on. She returned to her bedside somewhat reluctantly and took the call, coming face to virtual face with Edison Carter.

"Hey, Theora," Edison greeted her, his tone of voice light but tension ringing around his eyes. "I'm sorry if I just woke you up. I've been thinking about the story we did last night…"

"Oh…" Theora mumbled, glancing away immediately before remembering everything that had happened last night. After discovering where the teenage gangs had lurked and helping the Metrocops catch them, Edison had spoken to one of the boys who claimed that the gang's evil actions had been spurred on by a man living in London, who had sent them to the city across the river to carry out his bidding. Edison had expressed interest in following the story to its root in London, instead of sitting back and letting the London Metrocops handle it. He just never gave up the job, did he? Theora supposed that this was what came of thinking of crimes in terms of news stories and not in terms of crimes themselves. Turning her eyes back to Edison's expectant face, she tried to reply to him in as clear a tone she could muster, not wanting to appear disorganized.

"I'm sorry, Edison, I just got up now. It's been a long week." Theora gazed placidly into Edison's inscrutable eyes, wondering what her face was showing. Behind her, she became distinctly aware of the TV blaring. "What is it you were thinking about regarding the story?"

Edison blinked at Theora's disarray, and inclined his head slightly forward as he spoke. "It's okay. I've just been going over what Les told me last night. Anyone could make a case that he was just trying to pin the blame on someone in hopes that he would get away scot free, but it doesn't make sense why he would mention another man's name if everything he said was a lie."

"You're right, it doesn't make sense," Theora replied, finally gaining some of her wits about her as the morning fuzziness fell away from her brain. "Who was the man Les mentioned?"

"He said his name was Alexander Burgess," Edison told her. "And he said that he lives in London, and that he can't be prosecuted for his crimes. However, I highly doubt that last statement- more likely, I'm thinking Alexander Burgess just can't be found." He stared at Theora expectantly, as if he was waiting for her to ask a question that he could answer and get immediately down to the point. Theora gave him that question. "So you want to get down to London, help track down Alexander Burgess, and then cover the story when the Metrocops find him?"

"Exactly," Edison said with a smile that bordered on a smirk. "All I need is to get support from the Metrocops, from you, and from Murray. My dear Theora…" Friendly sarcasm played behind Edison's voice as he made the proposition. "Will you help me follow this story to London?"

Theora didn't bother pointing out that it was Murray's permission he needed before hers. "If Murray gives you the okay, of course I'll help you out," she said.

"Why thank you- I couldn't pull this off without my very best controller." Edison waited for Theora to take the bait, but she wouldn't rise to the occasion. Instead, she nodded. "I think we'd better meet down at 23 to talk this over with Murray. I'll get dressed and see you there in a moment."

"All right," Edison said, starting to get up. "See you, Theora." Theora moved to flick the viewphone off, but just before she could Edison stopped her with a comment that cut through her sleep-fogged brain. "Hey, nice rocks. Where did you get that necklace?"

_Rocks? _Theora confusedly plunged back into a sitting position, and it was then that she felt the cold sting of the necklace, nestled in her chest. She couldn't resist a peek at it before turning her attention to Edison, the words drying up in her mouth. Unpleasant déjà vu swam through her head, the morning Edison had caught her by surprise when she was in bed with her old boyfriend… She had seen the way his dark eyes hardened from liquid pools into frozen ones, heard the flat air of disinterest in his voice and felt the coldness radiate from him at work the following day. Though Edison had no right to behave like a jealous boyfriend, upsetting him was not something Theora wished to do again. Especially since it had led to her breakup from the real boyfriend in the end.

"Oh, it was a present," Theora said, pretending not to be bothered. "A friend gave it to me." The gender of said friend would remain unspoken. Edison stared at her chest for a moment more- Theora had half a mind to draw her bathrobe in closer, but Edison would notice and probably turn her actions into a joke- before nodding slowly and drawling in his pleasantly deep timbre, "Doesn't look like it cost very much…"

Theora inhaled, feeling Edison's sneaking suspicion creep up the back of her spine as if the emotion belonged to her. He was right to assume it was a boyfriend, but Theora was loth to give him any more hints. "They're just diamonds," she told Edison coolly, standing up. "If you don't mind, I have to get dressed."

"Mm," Edison said as Theora stepped out of the view of the viewphone. "All right, I'll see you in a few. Bye, Theora."

"Goodbye, Edison," Theora said, and turned the viewphone off. She stood in place for a while deliberating on everything they had said to each other before sighing and walking over to the TV, unfastening and discarding her necklace at the same time. Sometimes she wished that, unlike the viewphone, there was a way to turn the TV off…

"_Crunchy Flakes- the breakfast cereal for you!" _the TV was declaring as Theora closed the blinds of a nearby window and began to undress, when suddenly the falsely cheery voice of the commercial's announcer was replaced with a telltale stuttering voice. "Good-good-good-good morning, Theora! I hope I'm not- _ahem- _bothering y-you-ou-ou."

"Max!" Theora cried, immediately pulling her bathrobe together and spinning around, clutching her garments tightly in hand. Max only smirked with the full-of-himself air he often shared with Edison, having even less shame than the reporter did. A crazy thought ran across Theora's mind- that if she had forgotten to cover herself before turning around, Max would tease and torture Edison with the claim that he had seen Theora naked all day.

Pushing her thoughts aside, Theora ran a free hand through her hair and adapted a stern expression. "This is a surprise. You don't usually make house calls."

"I th-th-thought I'd drop by and s-s-s-see what you're up to- up to- up to," Max said, taking an on air of faux innocence. "Don't w-w-worry, I saw absolutely-lutely-lutely nothing-thing. Not-not-not that I would care any-any-anyway- unlike-like a certain counterpart-part-part of m-mine." Though Max's digital face was placid now, Theora could easily imagine him ending his statement in a wink. She sighed and rolled her eyes, turning around. "Thank you for the information, Max. Now can you let me dress in peace?"

"N-n-not until you ma-a-ake me a p-promise-omise-promise," Max stated, smug and serious at the same time. Theora halted in her movement- she had been about to tear her bathrobe off, just to get Max to shut up for a moment- and slowly turned around on her heel, mustering up as much irritation on her face as possible. "What is it now?"

"I-I-I want you to p-p-p-promise me-me-me," Max began, "that you'll talk-talk-talk to Ch-Ch-Cheviot about g-g-giving-ing me my own sh-show."

Theora's annoyance dissolved into surprise. "Why are you asking _me _to talk to Cheviot?"

"Be-Because you're the only one wh-who'll listen-ten-ten!" Max exclaimed. "M-M-Murray won't hel-hel-help m-me. You-you-you saw him l-l-last night-ight. Br-Br-Bryce is always 'w-w-working-orking-king-'" Theora could practically hear the quotation marks dripping from Max's speech- "an-an-and Ed-Ed-Edison will think I'm stealing-ealing-stealing his spot-spot-spotlight! It's-it's-it's such a poor-or-poor life for a self-self-self respecting g-guy like m-m-me." Finished, Max let out a resigned huff and drew his head back, gazing challengingly at Theora.

Theora had only ever seen Max truly angry once, and thus was able to decipher that this outburst was nothing but joking melodrama. However, Max was absolutely serious in his assertions- that he wanted his own show, and that he believed that Theora was the only person to give it to him. In response, Theora narrowed her eyes at the TV screen, meeting Max's challenge with an equally snappy glare.

"If this is so important, Max, why can't you ask Cheviot yourself?"

"Oh," Max sighed, sounding fed up. He rolled his eyes to the ceiling, or what could be called a ceiling inside of the TV. "I've tr-tr-tried that, believe-lieve-lieve me! He g-g-g-got s-sick of my-my-my demands." Returning his gaze to Theora, Max tried to give his expression a wounded look, but it came off too strangely. "He-he-he actually told me to b-b-bugger off! Off! Off! Can you believe-lieve-lieve it?"

"Yes, I can," Theora sighed again, glancing towards the large digital clock by the viewphone. She needed to get going, and wouldn't allow Max to stall her. Turning around, Theora sashayed over to her dresser and pressed a button that made the doors swing open, asking Max behind her back, "Why do you want a show for yourself?"

Immediately Max launched into a tirade that sounded rehearsed to Theora's ears, a two-minute rant that encompassed all of his emotions towards Network 23, how he was growing tired of being thought of as 23's poster child and always being linked to Edison. Theora, out of Max's line of vision, tried to keep from laughing as she dressed and listened. When Max was finally done pouting, Theora stepped back towards him, fishing the diamond necklace off the floor, and said to Max, "All right, Max, if that's how you feel, I'll try to talk to Cheviot." Though she was unsure of how kindly he would take her interaction, seeing as they had never come face to face before and rarely spoke directly to each other.

Max's voice filled with delight. "You w-wi-will?!" he cried out as Theora fastened the necklace around her neck, tersely nodding. "YIPPEE-PEE-PEE!" With the high-pitched shout, Theora froze with shock as Max's televised image spun around in a circle, briefly showing the back of his head. When he was facing the right way again, there was a huge smile plastered to his face that seemed would crack and fall off if it stretched any wider.

"How did you do that?" Theora asked, referring to Max's spin.

"Oh, j-j-j-just one of my many-many-many tricks," Max beamed. "And now, I'll k-k-keep my end of the deal-deal."

A second before Max could blip off to bother another lonely person, Theora called out to him. "Wait- Max…"

"Aha-a-a-a! I knew-knew-_knew _you needed me!" Max cried.

"I just want to know- is this how Edison feels about Network 23?" Theora asked, her voice coming out sounding less sure of herself than she would have liked it to. "Does he want elbow room like you do?"

"El-elbow-elbow room?" Max repeated, puzzled, and then launched into a violent, terrifying burst of laughter, one of the most frightening sounds Theora had ever heard and one that she always loathed hearing again. "Ed-Edison leave Network-Network-Network 23! HAHAHAHAHA! Edison is mar-mar-_married _to Net-Net-Network 23!" And with that last word of supposed comfort, Max vanished. Theora breathed deeply, collecting her scattered nerves and thanking God that Max had left, and at the same time wondering why it mattered so much to her to know that Edison wasn't thinking of pursuing an alternate job. She wouldn't be out of a job if Edison left, unless the network fell to ruins in his absence, which was a highly unlikely scenario.

Banishing all thoughts of Edison and Max, Theora was about to turn the knob to her penthouse door when the same tantalizing voice called out from behind her again. "Oh, Theo-o-oraaaa! I al-al-almost forgo-t-t-t to ask-k-k! Wh-wh-where did you get th-th-that necklace-ce?"

Why the hell did Max care? Theora responded to him in a cold voice. "A friend bought it for me." She wrenched the door open.

"A… cer-cer-certain friend?" Max questioned. "A… boyfri-i-iend?"

Slowly, Theora turned her neck around to face Max, letting her guard slip a bit so that Max could read the truth in her eyes.

"You won't tell Edison, will you?" she murmured. Max only shrugged his shoulders- which, in essence, were the only part of him besides his face that he could move.

"I wo-wo-won't bre-athe a word. Not-not-not if y-y-you talk to Ch-Ch-Cheviot."

Theora exhaled. "I will, Max. I promise." Max grinned and disappeared from sight, bringing the morning advertisements back again.

_What an eventful morning! _Who knew that Theora would spend it being blackmailed by an alternate, deranged version of her working partner? She stepped into the hallway and closed the door behind her.

"What took you so long?" was the first thing Edison asked Theora as she came into the TV station that morning.

She gave a rueful smile, though she was slightly irritated that Edison would think she was late, though they hadn't even agreed on a time to come in. "Max held me up." Edison gave a short bark of laughter as Theora sat down at her work station.

"Just throw a blanket over the TV. That's what I always do." Theora could feel Edison approaching her from behind, staring over her shoulder as she logged in to her familiar monitor.

"Yes, but does it stop him talking?" Theora said absently, and Edison's response was the backtracking, "Well, no…"

"There's no way to shut Max Headroom up," sounded Murray's voice from in front of Theora as he approached her and Edison, tightly sweeping his way across the floor. "Short of breaking the law and installing an off switch on the TV. I thought you'd have gotten used to it by now."

"Do you ever leave this building, Murray?" Edison asked teasingly, turning towards the producer. Theora was oddly grateful for his attention leaving her. She returned her own attention to the computer, fitting in earpieces and adjusting the microphone close to her mouth.

"Every few years," Murray answered dryly. Theora heard the slap of skin on clothing as he clapped Edison's shoulder. "All right, kids. You set to find and break the next big news story?"

"Well," Edison began, and Theora had to force herself to keep fiddling with the monitor, knowing what was coming next, "not as such."

"Not as such?" Murray's voice was confused. "What do you mean? You're not still thinking about that story about London that that kid told you last night, are you?"

Despite herself, Theora wanted to giggle when she heard Murray's absolutely correct assumption. Edison replied to him in an even tone. "You've hit the nail on the head." Theora glanced up just in time to see Murray sigh, exasperation filling his face.

"Edison, I told you last night that the story is over. It's out of our hands by now." Glancing from face to face, Theora could immediately tell that this was going to be another battle to make Edison see what Murray thought of as sense. Being the show's producer who rarely got his hands dirty with Edison's actual work, Murray was more concerned about the ratings than a sense of justice, while Edison, being the investigative reporter who had go into the field to find his stories, stayed true to his show's title by tracking down what he wanted to know. The biggest problem with their arguments was that both were very stubborn men who thought their way was the best. Theora often got left in the dust as she watched Murray and Edison's arguments from afar.

"For the people in London, this story isn't over," Edison said evenly. "Do you or do you not want to rightfully convict the guilty? It's not much, but if any of the kids arrested last night are given a trial, any information on this Alexander Burgess would be enough to prove that the boys were being compelled to commit the crimes that they did, not that they willingly chose to hurt innocents."

"Last night you told Les that he and his delinquents get what they deserve," Murray said, his voice tight. "Whose side are you on now?"

Edison ducked his head. "I know it sounds like I'm changing my mind too quickly. The point is that while Les and the other boys captured last night are definitely guilty, there are more people to blame who need to be found and apprehended. All I'm asking is to leave for London tonight so that I can try and find Alexander Burgess, discover whether or not he's guilty of igniting the gang activity, and bring him to justice if he is. It'd be a nice follow-up to last night's story, in any case." He stared defiantly at Murray, daring him to disagree. Theora could see that Murray found it hard to argue with the idea of Edison being the first to jump on a prospective story, but that he also remained convinced that the story was fair game to the London Metrocops and reporters.

"Surely you don't have to go all the way to London to meet this guy-" Murray began.

"Murray, do you think I could just invite a criminal over here for tea at my house?" Edison interrupted witheringly. "He's sure to be hiding out in London. I'll have to go if I want to question him."

"How are you going to manage without us in London?" Theora asked, breaking in on the conversation, and Edison cracked a smile. "How are _you, _my dear Theora, going to manage without seeing my face every day?"

"I swear, sometimes you're just as egotistical as Max Headroom," Murray muttered under his breath, obviously vexed. Edison wouldn't let it deter his mood as he continued breezily, "Well, it's only natural for Max and I to have some similarities…" He turned to Theora, his eyes peering inquisitively and hypnotically into hers. "If I'm going to visit London, I'll need you to come with me to access their city's mainframe."

"Unless there's another way for you?" Murray spoke up, his gaze lighting on Theora with interest. At once pleased to be the center of attention, Theora let the hint of a smile play around her lips, tempting her audience by withholding information. Finally she indulged her coworkers after one second's suspense. "I know how to access another city's mainframe. It's not a skill that's easily learned, but it's occasionally useful." She twisted around and sat down at her monitor, thrilled to be showing Edison and Murray one of her secret tricks.

"All one has to do," Theora explained, as her fingers flew over the metallic typewriter keys and two pairs of eyes watched hungrily, "is trace the city's satellite signal, and-" With one final stroke of the keyboard, the screen began blinking with red text that read ACCESS ALLOWED. Theora glanced up, trying not to look smug. It was not in her nature to look smug. "And there you have it."

"Nice," Edison said in a tone that conveyed deep appreciation, just as he had when Theora had first met him and showed off her skills on hacking a SecuriCam. A gentle hand rested on her shoulder, and Theora didn't need to look up to know it was his. "That's a pretty useful trick."

"It will be hard going into this without knowing what the city looks like," Theora said, studying the monitor's screen, "but that's what your camera's for." Besides, she had been to London before, a few years ago. The city couldn't have changed very much.

"So," Edison said, "unless you-" his pointed tone was aimed at Murray- "have any objections, it's all settled. I'll catch a mag-lev train to London tomorrow."

"I don't have any objections," Murray stated, the sound of his voice directly contradicting what he had said. "I want to make that clear. I have no objections with your actions, I'm just not sure if they're justified."

Edison pushed himself away from Theora's seat and moved in on Murray, his voice coming out in a controlled pleading tone and his eyes willing Murray to see his side. "Come on. It's a story, Murray- it's the only way we can convict the root of the evil in our city and wrap up this story once and for all."

Murray held Edison's sharp gaze levelly, not backing down. No matter how much of a spitfire Edison occasionally grew, he refused to give in to what he saw as an impracticality. "Just make sure it's the audience you're gratifying," he said, "and not yourself."

Edison sucked in a breath, knowing that Murray was determined to have the last word, but not letting himself lose ground. He half-smiled and delivered his statement in a chiding tone. "News is not gratification, Murray…" Then, stepping back, Edison went back to Theora's monitor, turning his attention onto the screen as if no exchange had taken place. He knew he had won, but he wasn't gloating outwardly. Theora stayed silent and virtually traveled down the city streets, familiarizing herself with London once again.

"If you insist on doing this story, make sure you come back with a good one," Murray warned, but Edison wasn't listening anymore. When Theora lifted her head from her work to ask him why he was still watching over her shoulder, he grinned a tricky grin, expressing his pleasure that he had gotten his way.

"I've got to make arrangements for leaving," he said, straightening up and moving away from Theora's space. "First thing I'll need is the camera."

"It's in the office," Murray said without looking at Edison. "Be my guest."

"Thanks." He departed, and Theora raised her eyes to meet Murray's frustrated, yet triumphant face. "I guess it's better than no news at all," he said, and Theora nodded. "Anything is better than no news."

She would have turned back to the monitor and absorbed herself in the London mainframe if Murray hadn't asked apropos of nothing, "Where did you get that necklace, Theora?"

Theora turned, her hand reaching up to caress Kent's gift unconsciously. She had forgotten she was wearing it, but now it seemed to be burning a hole in her skin.

"A friend gave it to me," she answered, her voice cool. Theora could almost understand why Edison might want to know about new pieces of jewelry (_so that means he notices what I wear every day?_), but she didn't see why Murray would care. As if realizing how awkward his question was, Murray cleared his throat and apologized. "I'm sorry, it's just… I've never seen you wear a piece of jewelry like that before. Are those diamonds?"

"Just diamonds," Theora said stiffly. What was the big deal? They could have been glass for all it mattered.

"You know, diamonds used to be much more expensive than they are now," Murray murmured, but he said nothing more on the subject, and Theora was glad. Remembering her necklace and Kent, however, also reminded her of the deal she'd made with Max that morning. Glancing out of the corner of her eyes at Murray, who now peering at a nearby monitor, Theora debated on whether or not she should break her promise to Max and tell Murray about what Max wanted, or if she should keep her mouth shut and wait until she had a moment to talk to Cheviot about it. Then she remembered that Murray had the closer connection to Cheviot, being the news producer, and figured that if she was ever going to try to persuade Network 23's president, she would have to ask Murray how to reach him first. And that would mean explaining what Max wanted to him, which most likely would not go over well. Murray wasn't the biggest fan of Edison's AI double. But then again, he was the only person that Max hadn't mentioned turning him down, so maybe he would take the burden- er, responsibility- off of Theora's hands.

Theora arranged herself so that she was sitting with her back to her monitor and lowered her microphone before saying to Murray, "There's something I promised… someone that I would talk to you about."

"Yes?" Murray said, turning all of his body and attention back to Theora. "What it is?"

"Well," Theora began, and then during her brief pause one of the monitors behind Murray flickered to life, showing immediately Max Headroom's bust against his wonted background of blue with yellow waving lines. Theora nearly forgot what she was going to say, so prepared was she to let Max talk, but to her surprise he committed a rare act of silence and simply stared at her, waiting to continue. Theora was slightly disturbed by the realization that when Max wasn't talking, he resembled Edison more often than he ever did normally.

"…I was talking with Max this morning," Theora said, trying to bring her gaze back to Murray's face, and Max nodded behind him, as if confirming what she was saying. Forging ahead, Theora said, "Do you remember his outburst last night? Everything he said about wanting to be free of Network 23 and getting sick of having to wait around for Edison to finish his broadcasts?"

"Yes, I remember that bit of melodrama quite well," Murray said, and over his shoulder Theora saw Max open his mouth, as if to issue a stinging retort, but then he remembered where he was and went back to waiting expectantly for Theora to broach to subject, although he still looked frustrated. Theora relaxed, taking Max's silence as a sign that he wasn't bothered by her decision to take the problem to Murray. She only hoped Murray wouldn't be bothered by the problem…

"This morning Max came to me and told me that he wants his own show," Theora said, and it took a second before the words fully hit Murray. Immediately his interested expression dropped, to be replaced by one of open bemusement, and more than a little irritation. "And… why did he say that?" Murray asked, his eyes suddenly casting about as if trying to find Max on one of the nearby monitors. Fortunately, he didn't turn around, and Max sat inside the monitor smirking like the cat that got the cream. Theora wondered if he would thank her for her actions later, and immediately decided he wouldn't.

Returning to Murray, Theora shook her head. "He just wants some… elbow room. He's tired of everyone paying more attention to Edison rather than him, and he doesn't want to be thought of as Network 23's trained dog. Or trained AI, in this case…" Max nodded sagely behind Murray, agreeing with every word that Theora said, and Murray's expression turned into exasperation. Before he could ask the question of why Theora was involving him, Theora explained, "Max asked me this morning if I could talk to Cheviot about it, and I wanted to get your permission…" She could already see in Murray's eyes that she was fighting a losing battle, and so stepped back to give him a chance to speak.

"This is ridiculous," Murray said at once. "Max has more freedom than any of us here. He can appear on whatever channel he wants and can interrupt any program if it so pleases him. Why would he want more publicity? We've already got him endorsing that soda and whatever other products Zik-Zak can pin on him…"

"AHEM-HEM!" Max finally spoke up, and Murray whirled around, visibly frightened by the realization that Max had been listening to the conversation all along.

"That's-that's what k-k-kind of attitude I'm talking-talk-talking about, mister!" he blurted. "I'm not h-here to p-p-p-promote soft drinks! I'm-I'm here because people like to s-s-s-see-s-see my win-win-winsome smile." He briefly displayed it before continuing in harsh tones, "I w-w-want more attention, and I-I-I want m-m-more people to l-l-love me. But n-n-now I'm standing-anding-st-st-standing in Ed-Ed-Edison's shadow and it's not f-f-f-air!"

"I guess this settles the question of how much he and Edison are alike," Murray mumbled out of the side of his mouth, before addressing Max clearly. "Max, it's not worth throwing a tantrum about-"

"T-T-T-tantrum?!" Max stuttered. "Ex-ex-excu-u-se me, but I th-th-th-think that I'm being per-per-perfectly reasonable-reason-reasonable about this…" Glancing out from inside the TV screen, his expression suddenly changed, as if realizing that he was going slightly over the top. Theora, on her part, was no longer amused and just wanted Max to get on with it.

"Well, o-o-okay," he sighed, his voice squealing up on octave, "f-f-f-forget that-that. I just want to be l-l-l-loved for who I am-am-am." Max hung his head and tried to look dejected, and Murray exchanged a glance with Theora. They both knew that Max would try his best to wheedle his way onto their good graces, and wouldn't stop begging for his own show until he either got it or settled for the second best option, which he already basically had.

"Why can't you ask Cheviot yourself?" Murray asked, and Theora answered before Max could say anything. "Cheviot told him to 'bugger off.'"

"Well, there you have it," Murray sighed. "If the idea doesn't fly with Cheviot, it's not going to happen." He then imbued his voice with warm apologetic sincerity to address Max. "You have plenty of attention doing those commercials for Zik-Zak, Max. You don't need your own show on prime-time TV."

Max brightened. "I-I-I wasn't going to as-ask for a p-p-p-p-prime time sl-slot, but now that you men-men-mention it…"

"Hey, Max," called a voice from behind Theora, sounding disturbingly like Max's voice minus the stutter. As soon as Max caught sight of the visitor, his eyes and mouth popped and he cried, "Here's the big-b-b-big shot reporter n-n-now! I'll-I-I'll see _you all _l-l-later." The monitor went black at last, and Theora and Murray turned to Edison, Theora feeling slightly guilty for ignoring his greetings. Edison crossed his arms and looked from face to face with an inscrutable expression on his own.

"So," he said, "Max is getting what he always wanted- more popularity than my own."

Theora and Murray gave nervous chuckles, and Edison relaxed, setting his camera on Theora's desk and drawing in close, as if he had a secret that he was just dying to share. Theora stood up without realizing it and moved in automatically.

"It's all been settled," Edison explained to his audience of two. "I just bought a ticket for a round trip to London by mag-lev. The train's going to leave at two this afternoon. Murray, if you'll let me leave so that I can pack…"

"Sure," Murray said in the resigned tone of a man who knew he'd lost the battle. "Go ahead, take all the time in the world."

"Should I stay here all day until you get to London?" Theora asked. Her fingers reached up to unconsciously massage the diamond necklace around her neck. If Edison needed her to work with him all day, it appeared that another day would have to pass without her meeting up with Kent.

"I'll need you here at 23, Theora," Edison said. "Now that you have access to London's mainframe, would it be possible for you to find Alexander Burgess's file?"

"I don't see why not," Theora said. "I'll find it for you." Her hands moved to the keyboard in front of her, and she typed in the name ALEXANDER BURGESS while Murray and Edison looked on expectantly. Finally several results came up, and Theora opened the very first file. A man with intense leering blue eyes and an expression somewhere between a smirk and a grimace appeared on the screen, beside his name.

"The first Alexander Burgess on file is a government worker," Theora declared to anyone who would listen. "He has a job at the Gramodisc Archives in London."

"That can't be our seedy criminal," Murray muttered, but Theora stopped his doubts by reading more information aloud. "Apparently in his youth he was a very active criminal, and was arrested for murder at the age of fifteen. He was released back into society after undergoing a conditioning treatment that made him loathe violence. The treatment was called the Ludovico process."

She looked up and alternated glances between Edison and Murray. "I think we've found the right man."

"He's using young teenagers to carry out the violence that he can no longer enact," Edison stated, sucking in a breath. "Thank you for the information, Theora. I've got to go home and pack now."

"It won't be a long trip, will it?" Theora called as Edison turned to leave. Without throwing a glance over his shoulder, he shook his head. "You've got Alexander Burgess's home address right there on the screen. It shouldn't take long to drop in on him, with the help of the London Metrocops, and arrest him."

Theora and Murray exchanged a glance- they both could already tell that the affair wouldn't be as simple as all that. But Edison was now walking away, and Theora had just enough time to call playfully after him, "Aren't you going to say goodbye to us?"

Edison turned and began walking backwards. "Goodbye, dear Theora. I _do _hope you can manage without me."

"I'll be able to see everything your vidicam transmits," Theora reminded him. "You won't get away from me that easily, Mr. Carter!"

"Then there's no sense in saying goodbye, is there?" Edison shrugged and then turned the other way around once more, nearly bumping into an employee who was coming through the door. Theora hid her laughter behind her hand as Edison apologized, and just before he walked out completely she called, "Have fun arresting a criminal!"

"Have fun watching the broadcast!" was Edison's parting statement, and then he was gone. Murray walked away, sighing, while Theora excused herself to go to the viewphone. There was a vidchat that she needed to arrange.


	3. Chapter 3

Once secluded by the viewphone, Theora immediately called Kent's work number. Crossing her legs in front of her, she waited until the screen came alive with his face, and a warm, childish thrill went zinging through her.

"Hello, Theora!" Kent called, and Theora's lips curved upward into a bright grin. "Hello, Kent. How has your day been?"

They talked for an hour, poring over the details of their individual days. Kent worked downtown as a car dealer, a job that didn't fetch a lot of money nowadays, but one that kept him afloat. Theora nodded as he spoke of the drudgery of his workday, immersing herself in the story and seeing a car shop similar to his drift behind her eyes. Edison had been found there once, unconscious, with a NeuroStim bracelet attached to his wrist.

"…Well, that's my day so far," Kent sighed, with an exaggerated weariness that suggested he was relieved to get the topic of conversation off of himself. "I'm grateful for the break. How's yours so far?" Before Theora could say anything, he suddenly smirked into the viewphone. "Or is the TV business too secretive to talk about?"

Theora laughed when she would have normally rolled her eyes. "Things are just fine in the TV business," she told Kent. "Now that the gang members have been apprehended, Edison is looking for a follow-up story involving how they became attracted to evil in the first place." It seemed an apt summary of hers and Edison's work that day. She would divulge the details if Kent asked further.

On the screen, Kent was frowning. "Don't you think one story on the gang crime is enough? I mean, give us a little while to recover… We don't want to think of what happened all too soon." At once he seemed to realize that he talking to Theora, who had no control over what Edison decided to do a story on, and gave her a crooked, rueful half-smile. "Sorry, Theora… what I meant to say was, I'm not too sure about the topic, but I'm confident you'll do well on the job." Kent's dark eyes were shining with confused light, and Theora knew that he didn't really understand all the nuances of being a controller. He was simply happy that she enjoyed her job, and he loved trying to unravel all the details of a budding story.

"Edison's stories are not my ideas," Theora reminded Kent gently. "I'm there to do most of the work involved with a broadcast, but what he presents during the broadcast, and how he presents it, are his decisions." Catching the trace of unfriendliness on Kent's face, and wondering what the cause of it was, Theora decided to change subjects. "Edison's going to London to work on the follow-up story. It will be our first broadcast from outside the city." Her voice filled with excitement as she recalled the images that had sprung into her head when envisioning the trip to London- a city with lights brighter than their own, filled with the thousand voices of babbling TV sets…

"London?" Kent blurted. "Does that mean you have to go along with him?"

"Oh, no," Theora answered swiftly, caught by surprise. "I can reach London's mainframe from the Network 23 monitor. It's only going to be Edison who travels."

"Oh. That's good, then." Kent smiled. "I wouldn't want to miss you for another few days. We have got to see each other in person soon."

They chatted about trivial things for a while longer, and then they both agreed that they had better end the vidchat if they wanted to resume their working day. But just before Theora could end the call, Kent spoke up one last time. "Wait, Theora… I just noticed-"

"Yes?" Theora said, her hand hovering above the Disconnect button, wanting some alone time but at the same time wanting to continue speaking to Kent- though she would have preferred a non-virtual conversation.

Kent cleared his throat. "Did you wear my necklace all day?" Pride gleamed in his voice as his eyes danced across her supple, out-of-reach neck. Theora couldn't help but answer with an endearing tone, revealing that she was just as proud as Kent was.

"Yes," she said. "It's beautiful, Kent. Thank you again for buying it!"

"You're welcome," Kent said automatically, and immediately continued with, "Did anyone ask you about it?"

Staring at Kent and hearing his eager tone, Theora began to catch a clue regarding his interest and his sour tone when she spoke about working with Edison. Could it be that Kent was jealous of the time she spent with Edison? But that was ridiculous… he should know that she wasn't attracted to Edison. Theirs was purely a working relationship.

"A few people," she answered Kent casually. "Why?"

"I…" Kent leaned forward, so that his beautiful dark eyes filled the screen. Theora was trapped in them, unable to look away. She wanted more than ever for him to be beside her.

"I wondered if you've told people about… us?" Kent breathed, and Theora felt her stomach deflate. _Oh… _

"I told them the necklace was from a friend," she said evenly. "I'm not ready to let people know about us."

"Why?" Kent said. Hurt flashed from beneath his heavy eyelids, and Theora felt suddenly that she'd done something wrong… put her foot in her mouth.

"Are you embarrassed about being in a relationship with me?" He was visibly offended, and Theora tried her best to explain.

"No, it's not embarrassing," she said. "It's just… I prefer not to talk about my personal life at work."

Kent paused, and then murmured quietly, "Does it have anything to do with Carter?"

_Edison, _Theora corrected him in her head, unwilling to call her friend by his last name. She shook her head once, though to say no was fibbing a bit. "Edison knows that I'm not interested in him, and that doesn't bother him." Her words were untrue, but the lie fell easily from her lips. To reassure Kent, Theora added with a smile, "And I'm not interested in him in that way. You should know that, Kent!" Her teasing tone finally seemed to warm him, and he gave her a small smile back.

"I would never question your loyalty, Theora." His lips spread farther apart, teeth gleaming, knowing what he was going to say and relishing in the imagined reaction it would cause. "I love you."

Theora's heart skipped a beat and then came back to her, pounding more quickly than before. Though she'd had many boyfriends who had told her of their later proven false affections, her reaction to those three words would always remain the same. Unlike the first few times a man had told Theora he loved her, there was no awkward deliberation over what she should say next. Without thinking, Theora paused for a moment, letting Kent wait, insecurity starting to blossom in him, before smiling back at him and murmuring, "I love you too."

Kent's response was the same as any man whom Theora had ever admitted to loving- his eyes and smile widened further, and the viewphone's microphone picked up the sound of his heavy breathing. He leaned into the camera as she leaned in, both of them feeling that they had mutually shared a moment despite their relative isolation. Of course, Theora was not the kind of woman who threw those three words around lightly, but she often tended to date the sort of men who would, and it took nothing out of her to return their sentiments, for fear of losing the relationship. At last Kent signed off for the last time, and Theora expelled her breath and turned around in her seat.

"Is that where you got the necklace from?" Murray asked, gazing staidly down at Theora, and she was so startled that she nearly leaped out of her seat. "Murray! How long were you watching?"

"Not very long," he replied. "Long enough to notice that you were monopolizing the viewphone by using it to make personal calls at work. Don't you have work to do?"

A bit peeved that Murray would call her out on that, Theora looked down at her hands. "I'll get by to my station as soon as possible. I just needed to make sure Kent knew that meeting tonight was off."

"Okay," Murray said, watching as Theora got to her feet and hurried off back to her monitor. "As long as your boyfriend doesn't get in the way of your work, I'll let it slide this once."

"Thank you, Murray," Theora said, and then a thought flashed into her mind. She caught his eye. "I know this will sound ridiculous to you, but could you by any chance not mention Kent to Edison?"

"Why not?" Murray asked.

Theora brushed a strand of hair out of her face. "Because you know as well as I do that Edison isn't always reasonable about such things. The last time he found out I had a boyfriend, he went snooping in my personal files and expressed anger towards me."

Murray nodded, remembering Edison's sudden personality change, but gently admonished her with, "You know Edison's going to find out eventually if this relationship continues. I might be intruding here, but I would advise you to just be upfront with him and if he acts like a sore loser, too bad for him. He has to realize that just because you're his controller, you're not his property."

"I'll keep that in mind," Theora said. "Thank you again, Murray." She didn't mention to him that Edison didn't just want Theora to be his controller.

Murray nodded in a form of "you're welcome" and went to join Theora by her monitor. "By the way, I just contacted Cheviot when you were talking to your… boyfriend, and he expressed a strong desire to keep Max from getting his own show. So that's that."

"That's th-th-that?!" Max cried, suddenly appearing on Theora's monitor. "Th-th-th-that's th-THAT?! I won't s-s-s-stand for this k-kind of ig-ig-ignorance and mistreatment! I'll g-g-get my own show, just you-y-you wait-wait. The M-m-m-Max H-Headroom Show, p-p-people! You heard it here-here f-first! Tell all y-y-your friends!" With that he had vanished, and Theora couldn't help grinning in humor up at Murray, who only shook his head.

"Shame Max can't follow along with Edison," he muttered, "or we'd get some peace and quiet for a day."

For Theora, the peace and quiet lasted only as long as Edison was traveling. As soon as Murray left her to her own devices, Theora began to studiously scan London's mainframe, scoping out every aspect of the large city before Edison arrived, so that she would be brushed up on what was located where and wouldn't feel as if she were going into her assignment blind. Just looking at the city's mainframe gave no clues to what the place might actually look like, of course, but Theora could fill in the blanks from her memory of the city and from what her own city looked like. There was sure to be a section reminiscent of the Fringes here, only people were much worse off in London, being a more crowded, overpopulated city. The smell of cooked rat and dog would hang in the air, the dwellings would be makeshift and every neighbor would stab the other in the back if their situated would be bettered by such actions. And the drinks served in the Fringes would be stronger than anything served inside the city… Those Blanks really knew how to mix, and how to party.

Theora remembered London's inner city as not being as clean as she had hoped and expected, but the people there were the same- all hooked to TV, mindless slaves to their favorite entertainment programs, with reporters stalking the streets every day to find something amiss. The buildings teetered towards the sky, a million windows lit up at night as if the entire city was ablaze. The enormous conflagration was truly a sight to behold. Out of all of her memories of London, this was Theora's most vivid.

Shaking herself out of her memories, Theora returned to the present day and sat by the monitor, waiting for Edison Carter's train to reach the station. Fortunately mag-lev trains were much faster than the old-school trains that ran on tracks, having reduced the friction by placing the train in the air. They were a technology that Japan had picked up first, and as with everything that Japan started, the whole world was to follow. They were cutting edge innovators, and some of their great companies, such as Zik-Zak, were proud sponsors of the TV networks that Theora made her living working for.

She was so absorbed in her work exploring London's mainframe and reminiscing on the times that she had spent in the city that it came as a surprise when Edison's camera flicked on and her second sight and hearing was restored. The scene that the vidicam was transmitting was that of a crowded, busy street, jam-packed with moving, shoving bodies and vendors of all sorts. To see her vision so perfectly complete brought a gasp to Theora's throat, and immediately in reply she heard Edison's deep, gently mocking voice- "Wow, Theora, I didn't know big cities excited you so."

"Yes, nothing like chasing down criminals who work for the government to really turn me on," Theora murmured, regaining control of herself as the image on the screen began moving forward and Edison shoved the flow of people out of his way. Although there was sure to be countless reporters on assignment throughout London, possibly too many to count, Theora was sure she could detect frowns and malicious glints in the eyes of the people who Edison passed, almost as if they were aware he was trespassing on their territory. _Let's hope he doesn't meet any fellow reporters, _she thought to herself. Edison Carter was recognized worldwide as Network 23's most popular investigative reporter, and if any of the local reporters found him in London they might think he was an unnecessary big shot poaching on their territory.

"I'll keep that in mind," Edison muttered, turning to move down an alley where he would have more privacy. On the screen, Theora saw a couple more vendors, several TVs blaring at full volume, and a few homeless people, most likely Blanks, huddled under blankets. One of the people who turned their weary eyes Edison's way had a scrawny, mangy dog with her, who got up to expel one bark at the newcomer before deciding it couldn't be bothered and lying back down.

"Hey," Edison greeted the people in passing, and though they all seemed to see him, and a few probably recognized him, there was no greeting in return. The image on the vidicam moved steadily forward, and Edison addressed Theora in a low voice. "Feed me the information, Control. I need to know where Alexander Burgess lives."

With ease, Theora pulled up the file that she had discovered regarding the man who Les claimed to be behind all the violence in the city. "The address isn't far from here." She switched over to her view of the mainframe. "You're going to take a right at the end of the alley…"

Within a few seconds, Theora was back in her element as she alternately described the route that Edison was to take to reach his destination and watched his progress on both the map of the streets and his camera's image. Besides the special link that she had to Edison, being able to see through the eyes of his camera and hear through his same ears, the second-greatest perk of Theora's job was the feeling of satisfaction it gave her when her reporter arrived at the correct destination, or when she successfully prevented him from being caught or injured thanks to a clever surveillance sweep of the location. If it wasn't for these two parts, Theora didn't think she would enjoy being a controller at all. Never mind that it was one of the more important occupations for civilians, as the investigative news genre became more and more popular on TV….

"And… I think we're here," Edison's voice came through as he came to the foot of a small building, a gray cement box with only one story and a TV dutifully stationed on the sidewalk right outside. Theora blinked in surprise- the building was evenly spaced between its neighbors, instead of being crammed into a small space with no room to breathe in between, and it even had what passed as a front lawn, although it only extended outward for a few meters and was made of concrete and asphalt instead of grass. Still, the realization of the dwelling's identity was shocking. Theora murmured into her microphone, "Alexander Burgess lives in a house?" She had seen Edison turn down a road into a residential neighborhood, but she would have never guessed that London had such things in the city. It had been a very long time since Theora had seen a house on her own.

Edison's body language was of course out of sight, but Theora got the feeling that he was shrugging as he spoke. "Hey, you know he apparently works for the government. He can afford the luxuries." The vidicam's image began to travel forward as Edison headed up towards the house's front door, and Theora held her breath unconsciously. "Weren't you going to call the London Metrocops in with you?"

The image paused at the door. "That was the original plan," Edison said, "but seeing as Alexander Burgess works for the government and has had a lot of publicity in the past, I don't want this arrest to be too high profile. Besides, I want to give him a chance to speak first, and he'll be immediately on his guard if I bring the Metrocops around here."

Theora nodded at this reasoning, though she knew that Edison couldn't see her. "Good luck," she murmured. Without a reply, Edison's hand appeared on the screen, reaching out to buzz the doorbell. After a few suspenseful seconds, the door swung wide open, and Theora and Edison came face to face with ex-criminal Alexander Burgess, staring out at Edison with a mixture of blurred recognition and subdued resentment.

Alex had just gotten his tea to boil and popped a disc into the music player when he heard the doorbell sound across the house. He growled under his breath in irritation, setting the cup of tea down and staring at it loathingly. If only he had some drencrom or synthemesc to add to the brew and make it taste just like the milk from old times… but he had to be careful of himself and not allow things to get out of hand like they had so many years ago. Though he was in the strong favor of the Minister of the Interior and was well-respected for his work at the Gramodisc Archives, there was still no way that he could go romping about on the streets with his droogs like he had when he was fifteen. Alex abandoned his tea in favor of answering the door, reluctantly switching off the music player on the way. Beethoven's magnificent Fifth Symphony disappeared in thin air, leaving nothing but the blare of the hated television in its place. It wouldn't do to have a visitor walk in and be drowned out by the gorgeous tones of lovely Ludwig Van, no matter how much Alex enjoyed him.

He gave his outward appearance little thought before he opened the door wide. He had been in this position for long enough that he had fallen into the act of keeping on his best behavior. But as soon as the door opened, Alex began to feel unsure about his efforts in staying publically good. The man who had come to pay him a visit was from the looks of it one of those popular reporters whose name Alex had forgotten, complete with a vidicam on his shoulder. His clothing was drab, perfect for going undercover, and his expression was serious, strong jaw set firmly in place and dark brown eyes boring straight into Alex. "Hello. I'm Edison Carter from the global TV network 23. I'm here to ask you a few questions."

Theora, watching the countenance of Alexander Burgess through Edison's eyes, wasn't sure what to think of him. He wore a gray, conservative suit and his dirty blond hair was well-groomed. The confusion in his luminous blue eyes was slowly being replaced by composure, his body language the picture of formality. There was nothing about the man to suggest that he had been up to nefarious activities in his past and in his spare time.

Once Alex heard Edison's statement- _"I'm here to ask you a few questions-" _it was all he could do to keep his eyes from narrowing in suspicion. Edison Carter… He had heard the name before. Certainly he had heard of Network 23, try as he might to ignore the TV's constant 'round the clock broadcasts. His first impression was correct- this Carter fellow was a reporter who was either interested in Alex's past as a criminal undergoing the Ludovico treatment, or more likely, judging from the expression in his eyes and voice, he was here because one or more of Alex's droogs had been caught in the city across the river and apprehended. Upon realizing that this assumption must be true, Alex had to struggle to remain civil. How could those young boys had been so foolish? Alex hadn't been nearly as unwise when he was their age…

"Ah, you are, are you?" Alex said, his voice containing no traces of the seething anger he felt towards the boys who had failed him. He would show the reporter that there was nothing about him to be scared of by lying as beautifully as he could and then sending him on his way. During the course of the conversation, he knew he would also have to make it a point to discover what had happened to the boys in the first place, and maybe sometime later, if he could get at them, he would show them what for. Alex grinned at Edison standing in the doorway, and offered his hand. "Permit me to introduce myself. My name is Alexander Burgess. You can call me Alex."

"I know who you are," Edison said impassively, shifting his vidicam to the left shoulder so that he could shake hands with Alex. "It's a pleasure to meet you. May I come in?"

Alex nodded and darted back inside, holding the door open as Edison walked through. Back at 23's headquarters, Theora surveyed the scenery on her screen. The inside of Alex's abode wasn't as simplistic as its exterior. A thick plush carpet covered the floor, with a large media center pressed again one wall and several red chairs of the latest style facing a TV set. There was a doorframe directly before Edison, which Theora could just barely make out to be the entrance to a kitchen. The walls were white and covered with art done in the ancient, ironically named "modern," style. As with Alex's personal appearance, there was nothing inside of the house that suggested that Les's accusations against him were true.

"Would you like any tea?" Alex asked his guest, despising the convivial tone of his voice. He wished he could just tell Carter to get the sod out of his home, but he knew it just couldn't be done.

"No, thank you," Edison replied coolly. "May I take a seat?"

"But of course." Alex went into the kitchen to gather both his tea and his wits, and Theora took the opportunity of his brief absence to whisper to Edison as if he were standing right beside her, "It doesn't seem to be the home of a murderer by proxy."

"I'm certain he's hiding something," Edison muttered, taking a seat in one of the oddly-built red chairs. Just then Alex returned, a cup of tea in hand. He smiled brightly at Edison, seeming not to be worried about the presence of the vidicam between them. "So what have you to ask me?" he said as he sat down easily beside Edison.

Edison, ever the professional, would not allow Alex's mood to throw him off and lull him into the belief that there was nothing fishy going on. "Alex, have you ever met a boy named Les Woods?"

"Les Woods?" Alex's brow furrowed, but not so much that would be suspicious. Every part of him was concentrating on giving a convincing performance, exercising his skills at lying that had always come so naturally to him. "I… I don't think so."

"No?" A hint of a threat lay behind Edison's voice. "If you haven't heard of Les, how about Paul Shields? Or Dave Gray?" Theora was surprised. Edison had done his research and found out the names of the delinquent boys from London.

A small frown appeared on Alex's lips, and he shook his head slightly. "Should I recognize those names?"

"According to Les, you should," Edison said. "These are the names of several teenaged boys who, along with many others, have been terrorizing the citizens of my city for weeks on end, and who were only just arrested yesterday. Les Woods claims that you are the mastermind behind their reign of terror, that you incited their violence and sent them across the river to do your dirty work. Is this true, Alex?"

Theora could have applauded Edison for his way with words, while Alex's heart plummeted to his stomach like a stone, though his expression betrayed no emotion. He knew as well as Edison did who he was talking about. That damn Les. He had always seemed a little different to Alex, less inclined to go along with the rules that the droogs had made for themselves. It was no wonder that he had been the one to give away their secrets at last, no matter how hard Alex had had the rules drilled into him. _I'll get you for this later, oh my brother, _hissed Alex in his mind. _Our pact from now on is like over._

Aloud, he took his time before replying, "I'm sure you've made a mistake. If he mentioned an Alexander Burgess, it wasn't me, or he was using my name as a cruel joke." _Yech. _After speaking so formally, Alex longed to rinse his mouth out. He took a sip of warm tea and steeled his nerves for more mental humiliation.

"What sort of cruel joke would this be?" Edison said. "Why use your name specifically, Alex?"

Ah, here it came. Alex was on familiar territory now, and he was ready to answer. "Oh, I take it you haven't learned anything about me besides my name and address," he stated regretfully, fighting an apologetic smile. That would be a bit over the top. "I used to be quite an… upstart in my younger days. There were many crimes that I committed back then, but I regret them all now, thanks to the wonderful Ludovico treatment that the men in the prison bestowed on me." The words coming out of Alex's mouth were so unlike him that his subconscious had to step back and stare in disbelief. Why was he endorsing the horrible, grahzny Ludovico treatment? He had hated it to the very bottom of his soul…

Edison inclined his head as if waiting for Alex to go on, and emboldened by this, he continued with a flourish. "The treatment made me unable to commit violence against anyone. This was so at odds with my previous nature that I tried to off myself, but fortunately fate intervened and I survived to come to terms with this treatment. I can't even think of violence nowadays without feeling sickened." _Oh, how untrue that is. _Alex paused. "I'm sure the boys were merely playing a joke on you, taking advantage of your lack of knowledge about me to send you on a wild goose chase. I'm afraid you'll have to look elsewhere if you want answers to your questions."

"Are you sure you didn't compel these boys to come to the city to carry out the violence that you yourself are no longer able to commit?" Edison asked softly, not missing a beat.

Alex arched his eyebrows in apparent surprise. "I tell you, I have no interest in violence anymore. I'm sorry that I can't help you further." He stood up, eager to get Carter out of his house right away. "If you'll excuse me…" He hurried out of the room on the pretense of putting his empty teacup away in the automatic dishwasher, but in truth going to vent his anger in a separate room, his frustration over Les's and the other boys' incompetence.

Though Theora wasn't physically in the same location as Edison, she felt as if he were right in front of her when he turned the camera onto his own rugged face. "I guess the lead was a dead end," he said, sighing.

"Alex doesn't seem to pose a threat to anyone," Theora stated, "and because he's under government protection, it would be hard to arrest him even if he could prove his guilt. Looks like you wasted a trip to London, Edison."

"Aw, I'll be able to make the most of it before I go," he said distractedly, his eyes flickering away from the vidicam. "What was that you said about government protection…?"

It was at that moment that Alex entered the room again, empty-handed, to be confronted by the sight of his guest talking to his camera. He cleared his throat, and Edison turned the camera back around and slid it under his arm. "Thank you for letting me in," he said, rising from his seat and offering his hand for one last shake. "I'm sorry to have wasted your time."

"You're welcome, and it's no big deal," Alex forced himself to say warmly. "Good luck on finding the real criminals behind this case." They shook each other's hands, and then Edison turned away.

Making his way to the door, Edison called over his shoulder, "I think there are no real criminals besides the boys on this case. Thanks anyway though." The door opened, and just as Alex was about to breathe a sigh of relief for Edison's departure, an idea that had been forming in the back of his head while he was in solitude hit him full force between the eyes. Though there was nothing he wanted more than to get Carter out, he also couldn't help but call him back. "Oh- Edison! Mr. Carter…"

Edison swung back around, one hand still on the doorknob, his eyes blazing expectantly. "Yes?"

"I'm very curious in your line of work," Alex said, trying to sound genuinely interested. "And I've never been to your city before. I was wondering if I could come with you on the mag-levs to see your working conditions at Network 23." The plan was so great, he couldn't have thought of a better one. Once in the city, he would have his revenge on Les for selling him out, while at the same time he could amass a new group of droogs, those who were tired with their lives, and have direct attacks come from the inside. Once his mind was made up that he had to go to the city, there was no turning back.

_That was sudden, _Theora thought, observing Alex's face closely. If he had any ulterior motives for wanting to go to the city, she couldn't see them. But yet it seemed unlikely that this was a snap decision. He had to have been already considering going to the city at one point.

Edison's eyebrows mushed together. "If your job will let you take a holiday, I don't see why you can't go…" Alex saw that he was clearly wondering why this had come up so suddenly, and attempted to make up a new lie in order to explain. "I'm on a break from work right now, as a matter of fact-" well, technically he wasn't, but a holiday could be easily arranged- "and I've been considering traveling across the river myself. Your arrival here seems to be the perfect opportunity, and perfect timing now that you've caught those criminals. The city's sure to be a lot safer without them now." He could have laughed. He was one of those very criminals, or had been- what did he care about safety? In his former line of work, there had only been one safety- the safety of not being loveted, or caught.

"Well- if you really want to come, go ahead," Edison said slowly, obviously still confused, but with the emotion fading from his voice. "Do you need to pack anything before you leave?"

"Most likely," Alex said, although he wasn't sure how long he was going to stay in the city and how many supplies he would need. "If you don't mind, I suppose I had better pack now. You can wait for me outside." Turning away, Alex disappeared through a nearby door, and Edison stepped outside and hauled the camera up to his face.

"What was this you mentioned about government protection, Theora?"

"I-" Theora couldn't remember what she had said before. "Edison, do you think Alex is to be trusted?"

This time she could see his shrug. "If he was lying to us, he gave a damn convincing performance. I'd trust him myself."

Theora nodded, though she knew Edison couldn't see. "I guess I'll just have to meet him for myself.


	4. Chapter 4

**AN- If anyone reading this work has triggers for rape and physical violence, I suggest you skip this chapter.**

Once Theora had explained to Murray that Edison was bringing Alex Burgess back to Network 23 with him, the producer was incredulous. "Edison goes to capture a criminal and ends up making friends with him and inviting him over here?" He shook his head. "I hope he knows what he's doing."

"Alex says it was a case of mistaken identity," Theora said carefully, making sure not to state it in such a way so that it sounded like her opinion. She wasn't sure yet if Alex was lying or not- there was still a niggling instinct in her gut that he had been lying about something, despite his overall appearance of sincerity. "And it wasn't Edison who invited him here. He invited himself. If Edison trusted him enough to say yes to him, I think he knows what he's doing, by all means."

Murray only looked at the floor and muttered something, before speaking clearly to Theora, "So what are they doing when they get back?"

"I don't know," Theora said, turning her attention to the monitor before her eyes. She took care to switch back over from London's mainframe to her home city's, and then glanced over at Murray again. "Edison turned his camera off after Alex had finished packing. I think Edison's going to check in with us upon returning, and Alex is going to head off to a hotel. He'll get a complete tour of Network 23 tomorrow."

"This Alex- he's not in the TV business, is he?" Murray asked, scratching his head.

Theora shook her head. "No. I thought you were here when we went over this, Murray." He shrugged, and Theora went on, reciting from Alex's personal file- "He works for the Gramodisc Archive in London. He's a music archivist and is in charge of categorizing discs and keeping them in good condition."

"Pretty lofty job for a guy who once killed someone," Murray commented. Theora sighed. "He claims to be done with violence now, thanks to Ludovico treatment. I don't think it's fair of you to immediately assume that just because Alex has a criminal record, he-"

"What do you know about this Ludovico treatment?" Murray interrupted. Theora swiveled her seat around to raise her eyebrows at him. "Murray, you're sounding like Edison now."

"I guess it's more of his business than mine," Murray amended, looking away. "I'm just interested. I've never heard of it before."

"When Alex arrives tomorrow, you can ask him all about it," Theora soothed, looking back at her monitor. She was bursting with excitement, both at the thought of meeting Alex and seeing Edison again, though she had basically just done both while controlling Edison in London. "Do you think you'll need me here for the rest of the night?"

"Just stay here until Edison comes back," Murray advised, his mind already on other things. "We'll take it from there and see if he needs you for anything else."

"Thank you," Theora said, always finding it important to recognize her employer's work, and Murray shrugged and turned away. "Tomorrow," he called over his shoulder, "besides the whole business with giving Alex a tour of Network 23, Edison's going back in the field on assignment, now that this story's been wrapped up. Just giving you a head's up."

"I hope Network 23 will be presentable," Theora joked under her breath, and Murray wasn't far enough away that he didn't chuckle himself.

Alex was elated as he stepped off of the mag-lev train and surveyed the bustling station around him. He couldn't care less that a reporter had accompanied him on the trip and was watching his every move. It suddenly felt as if his life was back on track again. Of course Alex had enjoyed his job at the Gramodisc Archives, especially because it allowed him to take home a disc for himself every night to listen to. But music was only second in Alex's list of pleasures to ultraviolence and the nightly activities he had once enjoyed with his droogs, and to be locked inside his house every night in London, knowing that there were teenagers outside who were partaking in such activities and having the time of their lives, was nearly intolerable. Living through the boys whom Edison indirectly claimed he had corrupted had sounded fun in theory, but it had greatly disappointed Alex that he couldn't get the chance to see their deeds for himself. Edison's arrival had almost been a blessing, yet another new lease on life.

Inhaling the stale air of the train station, Alex was about to briskly walk off, heading towards the stairs. Just as he was about to make his first step, though, someone's hand clapped him on the shoulder. Alex looked up, startled- for a second he had thought the hand belonged to a Metrocop, about to arrest him, but instead he found himself staring into the face of his traveling partner, Edison Carter, who looked positively jovial to be back from his day trip. They hadn't exchanged many words during the trip, and Alex had hoped that Edison would leave him alone once they arrived in the city. However, it appeared personal luck was not on his side- as if it ever was!- as Edison let go of Alex's shoulder and addressed him, "I don't suppose you managed to work out where you're going to stay here yet?"

"No," Alex replied politely, but inside he was dying to get away. _You, oh my brother, are really like pushing it. _"Do you know of the best hotels in the area?"

Edison strode forward, and quickly Alex caught up to him. They began walking side by side, pushing through the endless throng of people, Alex seething a bit on the inside and trying to keep his temper in control. Just a bit of information was all he needed from Carter, and then he could escape.

"There's the Snooki," Edison said ponderingly, "and the Paris Hilton Hotel I've heard is considered one of the finest in the country."

Alex let out a chuckle. "In the country! Now that's a hard feat to accomplish." _Oh, spare me the small talk!_

Edison grinned wryly. "Yeah, but you know it's the role of adverts to talk up their products as much as possible. Personally, I think it's all a load of hot air."

Together they exited the train station and Edison helped Alex carry his bags to the sidewalk, where he stood to wait for a ride. There was no taxi service in Edison's city, unlike in London, but Alex had partially convinced Edison that he was alright with hitching a lift. Edison was skeptical on his part that Alex, an employee of the government in a high position of status, would want to rough it all the way to his hotel, but Alex was very convincing and soon Edison relented. "Just call me on the nearest viewphone if you get stuck out here," were his parting words, before relaying his address and number to Alex. "The Fringes can be pretty rough at night."

Alex squinted as he looked away down the street. _Do I ever know that. _"Thank you," he said, turning his head back to smile infuriatingly at Edison. "I'll meet up with you tomorrow."

"Have a good night," Edison said. He turned around and began to walk away. As soon as he was out of sight, Alex grinned again, this time wider and more mischievously. He shouldered his bag and began to head in the opposite direction down the sidewalk, immensely enjoying his newfound freedom. It was a pity he had made arrangements for a tour of Network 23 the next day, or he would have completely cut loose from his obligations and readied himself for a night of ultraviolence.

_Soon, oh my brother, _Alex's mind calmed himself down. _Soon you will be able to live and love life again._

"I can't go out in the field tomorrow! I promised Alex I'd give him a tour!"

Only from Edison's mouth would one hear such words, Theora reflected from behind her monitor. And only Edison would pick an argument with Murray as soon as he returned from a day trip to London. Theora had just barely greeted the flesh-and-blood Edison with a warm one-second hug before Murray had waltzed in and informed Edison of his plans to send him on assignment the next day. The rest of the argument could easily be inferred from there.

Glancing up, Theora snuck a peek at the two men who stood in action before her, and was content with the familiar situation. Edison was animated, gesturing with his hands as he spoke, as if physically trying to impose his point on Murray's brain. Murray, on the other hand, stood motionless, his arms crossed in resolve. He knew as well as Theora did that he would win this one, and Theora pitied Edison's loss, knowing that he would remember it for another day in the constant battle of wits.

"You promised Alex a tour," Murray repeated, his voice unwavering. "That doesn't necessarily mean that you have to be the one to give it to him. Isn't your job more important?"

"My job is very important to me, Murray," Edison said, and he spoke with such depth that Theora would have figured even if she hadn't instinctively known already that the sentence was an understatement. "But it's not every day you get someone who works for the government in here… It could be good publicity."

Murray, aware that Edison was sidestepping the real problem by not mentioning himself, said, "As Theora tells me, Alex is an employee from the Gramodisc Archives. The preservation of music might be important, but it's not the TV business, and is therefore relegated to a lower agenda." Edison tried to interrupt, but ended up staring at the floor as Murray continued, "Furthermore, you're going to need a follow-up to the last story you covered, now that Les's claims have turned out to be a false lead. I'll get someone else here to show Alex around when he arrives tomorrow. I'd be willing to do it myself, as a matter of fact. You need to go ahead and get back out there."

From her vantage point by the monitor, Theora saw the tension drain from Edison's shoulders, and she briefly wondered if half the time Edison only argued with Murray for the sake of arguing. Their most recent one had been nothing more than a skirmish, compared to such past melees.

"All right," Edison at last relented, raising his eyes to meet Murray's face. "Just make sure you don't brush him off. He's really very interested about the place- we talked about it nearly the whole way back."

"Thank you, Edison," Murray said, and with that the aura of the room was restored to normality. Edison nodded- "Thank _you, _Murray-" and gave a smirk before heading for the door. Theora took this as her cue to stand up and begin gathering her personal items. She couldn't wait for the next day to meet Alex Burgess, and to get back on track with Edison. She hoped that they would get more of a chance to talk soon.

The next morning Theora met Kent for a quick breakfast downtown. As soon as he walked into the fashionable café, a smile split her face. She waved so that his scanning eyes caught the table at which she was sitting, and with a flourish he moved across the floor and into the seat across from her. "Theora!" She closed her eyes as Kent leaned in to give her a peck on the lips, and then opened them to gaze into his handsome eyes as he settled back in his seat and smiled at her. "How are things?"

"Things are great," Theora replied, waving off a waitress who stepped in to flash a gleaming smile at Kent. "It's fine, we've already ordered," she said, and the woman backed off. Returning her gaze to Kent, Theora found that he was visibly impressed. "You remembered how I take my coffee?"

"With Splenda and powdered milk!" Theora laughed cheerily. "It might explain why you're so sweet." She would have cringed outwardly at her statement- what she had meant to say was a gentle ribbing about Kent being "soft" for not taking his coffee any stronger- but Kent smiled and chuckled, his eyes flashing at the compliment, and Theora decided she could let it slide.

"And how, dear Theora, do you take yours?" The term of endearment flustered her for a moment. "Dear" was usually reserved for Edison when he was feeling like a flirty tease. Quickly, Theora covered her internal thoughts and raised her mug with a smirk. "Black coffee- no more, no less." Her eyebrows arched in amusement. "I can't believe you didn't remember!"

"Hey," Kent began in a hurt tone, "it's not my fault you have an exceptionally good memory."

Theora laughed and pushed a tray of biscuits in front of Kent. "Eat up!"

They enjoyed their breakfast in companionable silence, and then Kent asked Theora how the trip to London the day before had gone. "Did you catch the bloke behind all the riots?" It was highly noticeable that Kent was imagining Theora herself going down to London, rather than Edison, even though he knew it was the other way around.

Swallowing her bite of the last biscuit, Theora leaned forward. "It turns out Alex Burgess was a false lead. The boy who told us he was involved was just hoping the blame would get pinned on someone else so that we could go free." She wondered if she should mention that Alex had once been a criminal in his youth, but decided against it. It would make her next words more disturbing for Kent to hear. "Edison invited him to drop by Network 23 today, I guess as an apology for going after the wrong man." Kents eyes widened from across the table.

"Theora, I hate to be the one to say this but… how do you know for sure he's innocent, that the kid Carter talked to wasn't just joking?" Kent had leaned significantly towards Theora as he spoke, and his proximity at once made her feel safe but crowded.

Knowing he was expecting a quick response, Theora sighed and tapped her fingernail against the warm mug of coffee. "Alex was very convincing during yesterday's interview, and he sounded sincere. Besides-" For a second she hesitated, not sure if the following information was something that she should divulge to an outsider who didn't have access to every citizen's personal files, but she decided it was all right to admit as long as she was vague. "Besides, there's absolutely no danger. He's been… medically reformed."

"Medically reformed?" Shock pierced Kent's voice. "What do you-"

"I don't think it's right for me to tell you any personal information," Theora cut in quickly. "I learned everything from Alex Burgess's files in the London mainframe. I shouldn't tell you anything that could be confidential." Sometimes it was hard for Theora to remember that not everyone had the special access that controllers were permitted. She finished her statement with the conviction that, "Kent, there's no need for you to worry about me."

"But I can't help but worry," Kent murmured, although he leaned back in his chair to indicate that he was feeling calmer. "You're always on my mind, Theora, even when I'm working on cars at the garage. I wish I could see you more often in the day."

Theora nodded, even though she felt that this conversation was awfully similar to one that she had had the day before with Kent. "I'll be fine," she mindlessly assured him. "Trust me."

Kent blinked, and a smile unfolded on his face. "I already do."

Edison was nowhere in sight by the time Theora arrived at Network 23, which was a surprise. Even more of a surprise, though, was the unfamiliar man hovering around her personal monitor with a look of both intense interest and mild confusion on his face. Theora scanned both sides to see if she could find Murray anywhere, but he wasn't around either- presumably he was hiding in the office. She walked down the aisle created by the rows of monitors and TVs towards the strange man, hearing whispers rising and falling from various other workstations around the room. Something was definitely up; the room was abuzz with nervous energy.

"Hello," Theora greeted the man, and as his head snapped up she immediately realized it was Alex Burgess, matching his visual image on the screen that she had watched so intently yesterday. "Mr. Burgess, isn't it?" He blinked slowly as she approached, her hand out, before taking it and distractedly giving it a squeeze. Up close, Theora could see that Alex's bright blue eyes were luminous and strangely calculating. They seemed at once innocent and ruthless, and on top of that impenetrable. His close-lipped smile seemed friendly enough, but the orbs above it gave no indication whatsoever as to his thoughts. A tiny shudder went through her involuntarily as she stepped away from Alex.

"Hello…?" He gestured slightly with his hand, as if trying to place her name.

"My name is Theora Jones," Theora introduced herself. "I'm Edison's controller." Then, reading from Alex's expression that he didn't know what a controller was, she explained- "It's my job to watch through Edison's camera when he's out in the field. I give him personal information on the people he's interviewing, let him know the best routes to get to where he wants to go, and generally make sure his broadcasts run smoothly." She smiled, and after a split second Alex smiled back, deeper and broader than before and this time showing his teeth, one of which was chipped. Grinning, he looked more like a wild young boy than the respectable man he was. It made the suit he wore appear slightly ill-fitting.

"That's all very interesting," Alex said, taking a step towards Theora. "I haven't seen Edison yet today, but I'm very excited to take a tour of this building." He winked, so quickly that Theora wasn't sure if he actually had or not, and came closer. "Especially if you're the one to give it to me."

Theora backed away and sat down, a little flustered. "I don't think so," she replied, turning on her monitor. "Edison will likely need me for most of the day."

"Alexander Burgess!" a familiar voice cried out. Theora and Alex both glanced upwards to see Murray hastening towards them, a frazzled look on his face that he quickly smoothed out and covered up with a grin. "It's great to meet you." Coming close enough, he held out his hand, and Alex took it politely and let Murray give him a hearty shake. "I'm Murray, and I'm the producer for Edison Carter's TV show. It's an honor to have you here."

"The pleasure is mine," Alex said, slipping his hand out of Murray's grasp and subtly wiping his palm on his dress pants. Theora could only guess that Murray was nervously sweating. She broke into their looming conversation. "Have you seen Edison around this morning?"

"Now he has!" called an even more familiar voice, approaching Theora's workspace rapidly. Theora looked up and smiled to see Edison making his entrance. "I'm sorry I'm late; I had some important business to attend to."

"Let me guess," said Theora. "Your alarm didn't go off?"

Edison gave her a dark stare, although it held no barbs. "Your guess would be… partially correct."

"So you dawdled on your way over?" Theora teased.

This time Edison laughed and sidled up next to Alex, who stared at him oddly. "In my line of work, 'dawdling' is out of the question." He set his hand on Alex's shoulder, and Theora found her eyes glued there. "Hey, Alex, good to see you. I take it Theora and Murray have already introduced themselves?"

"That we have!" Theora said, and Murray chuckled. "One big happy Network 23 family."

"H-h-hey!" cried yet another new voice, and all four people turned around (Alex ever-so-subtly shaking off Edison's hand in the process) to see Max Headroom onscreen, peering out at his audience like the diva he was.

"You can't-c-c-can't call yourself a f-f-family without introducing me!" Max blinked, staring in Alex's direction, and continued before anyone could say anything, "Who's the guy in the s-s-suit?"

"What in Bog's name…" Alex muttered under his breath, his eyes open wide. He stared at Max with pure, raw shock on his face.

"Alex, this is Max," Edison introduced the two. "He's a part of me, I should say."

"The b-better half." Max grinned broadly. "And who-who-who am I talking to?"

"The name is Alex- Alex Burgess," Alex said smoothly, his shock beginning to dissipate, but Theora could see that he was wondering very much about the AI onscreen. His hand slipped into his pocket and appeared to close around an object he found there as his eyes turned pondering. "I'm an employee at the Gramodisc Archives, on a day trip here."

"Max was created by our head of technology research here at 23, Bryce Lynch," Edison explained the familiar story to Alex. "He was trying to get information out of my brain and downloaded Max as a program while I was unconscious. Now he's here to stay, and we've have to learn to live with him." He gave a smile that held hints of a grimace and rapped on the TV screen with his knuckles in a friendly manner.

Alex narrowed his eyes, peering more intently at Max, seeming to stare straight through him. "How very… interesting…"

"S-s-s-sorry I can't stay for long-long," Max declared breezily. "In-in fact, you-y-y-you reminded me that I've got a d-d-date with B-B-Bryce downstairs. He w-w-wanted me for something-thing. So for now, goodbye-good-goodbye! Parting is such a sweet-s-sweet sorrow…" He appeared to blow a kiss to his general audience before winking out of existence, whisked away to another monitor and another human to bother.

"Well, now you've met everyone," Edison said, and Theora turned her attention back to him, watching as he interacted with Alex. "I'm sorry to inform you that I can't be the one to show you around today…"

"Why not?" Alex asked, turning away from the monitor that Max had inhabited at last. Theora thought for a moment that she detected mistrust in his eyes, but it was gone after a second. His body language sent out unlikeable signals though, from the way his arms suddenly crossed to the flicker in his eyes. A niggle of discomfort began to gnaw in her belly, but she pushed it back from her mind by focusing on Edison's relaxed posture again.

"Murray-" Edison jerked his head in the direction of the producer, who was busying himself with other work- "decided to send me out into the field today. So, like Max, I can't stay here long. Murray will find someone to give you a tour if you need it."

"Oh." Alex's face fell for a moment, but he plastered on a bright smile immediately. "Maybe you can give me that tour we were talking about, Theora?" He moved close to her, and Theora forced herself to gaze into his too-wide eyes. She suppressed a shudder- the desire to look away was filling her every nerve. Though Alex seemed well-intentioned, there was something about him that screamed foreboding.

"As I told you," she explained calmly, and was surprised at her own patience, "I need to be here with Edison. Leave the tour up to Murray."

"Leave what up to me?" asked Murray, whose attention had just wandered back to his employees. Edison shrugged. "Theora suggested you be the one to show Alex around, if you can spare the time."

"That's awfully considerate," Murray said a bit sarcastically. "Considering I have some work to do in the office. But I'd be willing to take time from my schedule." He clapped Edison on the shoulder. "Okay, gang, you know what to do from here. I'll be in my office if you need me, Theora. I just have to sort out a few things first, and then I'll be off with Alex."

"Thank you, Murray," Theora said, and looked up to flash a grin at Edison, who returned it. Looking back at her monitor, she felt a hand on her back, and was startled when she glanced upwards to find that it was Alex instead of Edison. He gazed at her intensely for one second before removing his hand. This time she couldn't hold back a slight shiver. What was wrong with Alex? Was he trying to flirt with her?

"See you later, Theora!" Edison called as he headed to the doors. Murray was departing, and Alex and Theora were the only ones who watched him leave. "And I hope to see you again soon, Alex. I've enjoyed getting to know you."

"I've enjoyed meeting you as well," Alex called pleasantly, and then added under his breath, "More than you will ever know." Theora waved goodbye and then got to work, pulling up images of the city's mainframe. Alex came to stand over her shoulder and watch, fascinated, as she did so.

"You've got a pretty good job here, haven't you?" There was softness and intrigue in his voice, which would have put Theora off her guard until she looked up to respond to him and saw that he was staring at her with open… lust. The intense stare was gone quickly, replaced by a shrug and a nice smile, but Theora knew already that she didn't trust Alex to be near her. Why couldn't he respect her as a woman in a highly paying job, instead of treat her like a doll?

"Yes," she replied stiffly. "It's a lot of work, but it pays off in the end, and I greatly enjoy it. On your end, what's it like working in the Gramodisc Archives?" She hoped that by turning the conversation away from herself, Alex would stop seeing her as a piece of meat and more as the female human she was.

"Oh, it's all right," Alex said, giving another shrug. "My favorite part about it is the fact that I get to take a disc home for myself every night." He inched into Theora's personal space, daring her to make eye contact. "Do you have any fondness for music- especially those great great works by the master composer Ludwig Van Beethoven?"

The name didn't ring a bell for Theora, and she was more concerned with getting Alex away from her than with making conversation anymore. She shook her head, leaning away from his glowing eyes. "No, I've never heard of him." Alex's shoulders slumped, and he seemed about to make another move when Theora, unable to bear his closeness, jumped in- "You know, Alex, if you're curious or impatient you can start the tour without having to wait for Murray. I'll let you know how to get to the places you're looking for."

"Oh?" Seeming to finally realize how he was intruding on both Theora's job and personal space, Alex took a step back. "I've got no idea where to go, though."

"Why don't you try Bryce's tech lab?" Theora offered. "Max might be down there too. I'm sure you'd be interested in Bryce's experiments." She didn't mention that Bryce, while he might not necessarily dislike visitors, usually hated having to dumb down his explanations for people with lesser intellect. All she knew was that Alex had seemed stricken by Max, and it was a way to keep him away from her, at least. "All you have to do is go downstairs to Level 13 and turn left. You can find him at the end of the hall."

"I should like that very much," Alex murmured, moving away. "Thank you, Theora. I'll go now." At last he departed, and Theora expelled a sigh as she turned her attention back to the work she loved. Alex might not be the criminal he had been taken for from the beginning, but he was certainly a more disturbing character than he had first seemed to be. She was glad to be rid of him, at least for the time being.

It was a few minutes later when Murray returned to Theora's side, and had to get her attention by tapping her shoulder. "Theora? Where did Alex go?"

Theora looked up, a bit dazed, as she had been seeing through Edison's eyes. She moved her microphone away from her mouth. "I sent Alex down to Bryce's floor. He's probably there now."

"Ah," sighed Murray. "That's one less thing I have to worry about."

Hidden from seeing eyes, Alex traveled to the 13th level of Network 23's building by dint of elevator, and then followed Theora's instructions to the opening of Bryce's cave. His mind was reeling from everything he had just witnessed- the high technology, the neatness and precision of everyone in the main control room, shoved into their tiny boxes, the terror of Max Headroom- how could that be legal? How could such a thing be allowed to exist?- and the humiliation of Theora's obvious rejection. It had been a long time since Alex had let his mind stray towards the old in-out-in-out, and he would have been sorry that he had freaked out Theora, but he was more angered by the fact that he had let her fall out of his hands. It was so tedious having to go through the motions of falling in love with a woman and asking her out on a date before getting what he really wanted. Alex didn't see how anyone else could stand it.

Now that he was here inside the building, traversing its hallways, Alex felt as if he were caught inside of a machine that he couldn't escape from. It had been a good idea to come to the city, if only to scope out locations, but he was now regretting his decision to visit Network 23. The day was run like clockwork, and Alex felt dreadfully out of place. As he stepped through the doorway into Bryce Lynch's lab, he hoped that whatever there was inside could lift his mood, although he doubted it if Max was in there.

A few moments before Alex arrived, Bryce and Max had been locked in an argument that arose from lack of work on Bryce's part. Once Max had shown up at Bryce's lab, he had been initially enthusiastic at the idea of helping Bryce with an experiment that could lead to the next technological breakthrough, but he soon grew bored and irritated when all Bryce wanted to do was…

"Bouncing b-b-b-balls?!" Max spat in criticism, his head and eyes bobbing up and down in time to the rhythm that Bryce's rubber ball made when it hit the ground. "W-w-what did you need me-m-m-me here f-for if all you're g-g-g-going to d-do is bounce b-b-balls?"

"Ssh," Bryce muttered, not paying the talking head on his TV screen any mind. "I'll get to the experiment soon, I promise. Right now I'm just running a backup program."

"But wh-wh-where's the f-fun in that?" Max asked, incomprehension thick in his voice. "Wh-wh-why shut your-y-y-yourself off and let m-m-m-muscle memory take over-over, when you'll feel much b-b-better actually using your own m-m-mind?"

"Listen," Bryce said, turning his un-amused eyes hidden by spectacles towards Max, "if you're not interested in participating you can always leave."

"Not in-in-interested in part_i_cipating?" Max repeated, incredulously. "Huh! Huh! If y-you're going to be like that-that I shouldn't b-b-bother wasting my t-time." He disappeared immediately, and Bryce groaned in frustration. "Max, come back!" He threw the ball at the now-empty TV screen, and watched it bounce back in interest. _What angle did I throw that at? _Suddenly invigorated, Bryce jumped from his seat and raced to pick up the ball, his mind already doing a thousand calculations.

It was the that Alex Burgess burst through the door, jamming his hands in his pockets and commanding anyone who dared inhabit the room to look up once and tremble in fear. Unfortunately- or perhaps fortunately- the only person in the room was Bryce, and he wasn't paying attention. He was bent over to retrieve the rubber ball from the floor, and as soon as he stood up he caught sight of the visitor. "Oh, hi!" Bryce said, moving over to his desk to set the ball down and then walking forward to observe Alex. "I'm sorry, but who are you? Who sent you down here?"

Alex sized up the young boy in front of him and had to restrain his urge to give a disdainful sniff. This wasn't the place for boys his age. He should be running wild in the city streets, not cooped up inside a skyscraper doing the dirty work for a TV network. Instead of feeling pity for this boy, all Alex felt was rage. He tried to keep it down as he spoke.

"I'm Alex Burgess, employee at the Gramodisc Archives." How many times had he said those words today?

The boy chuckled shortly. "Gramodisc? I met someone once who had a vintage disc from the past. They were so huge back then, huh?"

So this boy wasn't a music fan either. Forcing himself not to grit his teeth, Alex continued, "Edison Carter met me in London, and I invited myself to come check out the TV network in your city. Theora Jones sent me down here… I'm looking for a man named Bryce Lynch?"

The boy smiled. "Well, this is he. Although I wouldn't call myself a man yet- I'm still in the adolescent stage." He offered his hand to shake. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Burgess."

Alex was nearly too stunned by this revelation to grasp Bryce's hand. The head of Network 23's technology department was nothing more than a teenager! Conflicting feelings ran through his head, most of them varying forms of anger directed at Network 23 and its employees. This place was a nuthouse. Not only was it unbelievable that they would take this boy's childhood away from him, but it was also unfair that the boy would be considered in the first place for the job. How dare he, of all people, receive such a high honor? What kind of a world did people live in where certain children get the opportunity to work for a TV network, and Alex had had to grow up in an environment that promoted a life of crime as the only way to win any respect? He barely noticed when Bryce's hand slid out of his, too incensed was he by the current ways of the world.

"How- how in the world did you get this job?" Alex heard himself say, though his words sounded far away through his own ears. "How _old_ are you?"

"Sixteen," Bryce replied nonchalantly. _Sixteen… _Alex had only been a year younger when he committed the crime that got him thrown in the Staja. "It's not unusual nowadays for TV networks to choose their heads of the technology from recent ACS graduates. Academy of Computer Science," he clarified, presumably seeing the confusion on Alex's face.

Alex nodded, pretending to be impressed, but in truth he felt even more disgusted and angered. Why had he never had such an opportunity to make something out of himself? How could Bryce achieve this greatness when all Alex had done at his age was run around nightly with his droogs and skip school?

"So what did Theora send you down here for?" Bryce asked as he returned to his seat in front of a large monitor. "There are plenty of my own creations that I could show you if you're interested. There's the virtual parrot, and a magnet that picks up wood-"

"Shut up," Alex hissed, so quietly that at first not even he heard himself say it.

"Excuse me?" Bryce blinked innocently from behind his thick-rimmed glasses. So innocent. He was so innocent, and so unsuspecting, and it made Alex so sick that he could scream. He almost thought he felt the effects of the Ludovico treatment once more, except this sickness came with a desire to hurt and kill, rape and pillage. Added to Bryce's mention of Theora and the failure he had experienced in trying to flirt with her, Alex felt an iron clamp take over his body. He saw everything through a filter of red.

"I said-" In one quick motion, Alex reached into his pants pocket and whipped out a straight razor, his very own britva that he had used so many times back in his glory teenage days. "I said…" He stalked forward, holding the razor out like only he knew how. "I said _shut up."_

Bryce began to back away, automatically. As a general rule of thumb, he never allowed himself to feel fear, as it was an unnecessary emotion that got in the way of his work. But the sight of this strange, uninvited man clearly wielding a weapon struck… something into his heart. Something unfamiliar and unpleasant. He knew rationally that he was in danger, and that he should get away from Alex. It was all that his mind could process at the moment.

Alex approached Bryce, backing him into a corner. It was then that Bryce realized he should somehow get to the viewphone to call for help, and tried to move past Alex. But on one quick motion, Alex had the upper hand. He lunged at Bryce and wrestled him into a headlock, pressing the razor's thin blade to his throat. The winking red eye of a Securicam caught him by surprise, and swiftly he dragged Bryce over to the desk, where he picked up the hard rubber ball and aimed it at the camera with all the powerful force he could muster. The force of the ball shattered the camera's glass.

"What… what are you going to do with me?" Bryce asked, his voice calm even though he knew that Alex was a man to fear. He was more puzzled than afraid for his life, wondering if Alex would attack him or try to kidnap him and hold him for ransom.

"Shut your rot," Alex ordered, his voice taking on an odd accent that Bryce had never heard before. "I am going to introduce you to the old ultraviolence, oh my malenky brother. You shall be wounded and ravaged by the great Alexander DeLarge."

Alex didn't give his words a second thought. He knew in his heart that once he had been urged into ultraviolence, there was no going back. The familiar joy began to steal over him, and he filled with glee as a balloon fills with air. It wouldn't do to kill this boy, but he could use a few lessons in the wicked ways of the nadsats.

The cold razor pressed hard against Bryce's throat, and at once he felt himself sweating. A churning feeling built in his stomach, and his heart rate sped up. Some cool and collected part of his mind was cataloguing these reactions for later interest, and the other part, the part that felt the reactions wholly, was panicking.

Suddenly Alex made his move. He slammed Bryce to the floor with a fist in the pressure point at his back and pinned him facedown, knocking his glasses off in the process. Alex forced Bryce's head down, so that the shards of glass from his broken eyewear dug into his face. Bryce cried out in pain, and Alex yelled at him to be quiet. His razor grazed the skin at the back of Bryce's neck as a warning.

At that moment Bryce decided to resort to pleading for his life, as he could tell that if he didn't get out of this soon he would end up terribly wounded. "Please, Mr. Burgess, let me go! I-"

"I'll not let you go until I've had enough of you, my brother," Alex hissed in his ear. "Lie down and like relax. This will be real horrorshow."His tongue traced outlines against Bryce's ear, and Bryce's body erupted into trembling.

Lying with a face full of floor, and with his glasses gone, Bryce couldn't see Alex unbuttoning his dress pants and casting his jacket away. He couldn't see the murderous grin on Alex's face. But he could feel it when Alex undressed him, reared, and took the plunge.

A few minutes later, the newly formed Alex DeLarge arose from the ashes of his scarred creation. He spat contemptuously in Bryce's direction, and then straightened himself up and retrieved his suit jacket. It was then that he noticed he had an audience- the abomination Max Headroom was gazing silently and accusingly out from the nearest TV. Alex snarled and ran at the TV, whisking it off the desk to bring it crashing to the ground. Glass cracked, and the plug burst into sparks as it was yanked violently from the wall. Content that he had left no suspects, Alex made his escape.

But it was too late. Max was already on his way to Control to inform Theora and Murray of what he had just witnessed on Level 13.


	5. Chapter 5

The sign outside the beaten-up, rundown building was hardly legible thanks to faded lettering and the quality of Edison's camera, but Theora could just make out the word "Library."

"You think a nostalgic piece would be a nice, easy breather after the thrilling manhunt from the last show?" Edison's voice asked, a trace of excitement filling his tone. "Or do you think talking about books would be too controversial for the modern public?"

"I'd say go with your gut, Edison," Theora sighed, thinking back to how Edison had once uncovered a printing press business run by the Blanks, just before the Metrocops burst in on the scene, eager to bust them. "You can go in there if you want, but it's sure to be full of crack addicts now."

If Edison was about to reply, Theora never got to hear him say a word. In the blink of an eye, the old library onscreen had been replaced by Max's glowing face. Theora was about to blurt out what he was doing there when she realized that his expression wasn't, well, Max-like at all. Instead of gleaming with a bright, full-of-himself smile, he stared at Theora with a desperate, urgent expression. He resembled Edison more than he ever had before.

"Max?" Theora said as gently as she could, though a bit of irritation seeped through; she was still annoyed that he had cut her off from Edison, even if the reason was important. "What are you doing here?"

"It's B-B-B-Bryce," Max blurted, and even his ludicrous voice sounded grave. "That c-c-cat in the suit a-a-a-attacked him-him."

It took a while for Theora to translate what Max had just said, but when she did, her eyes widened. "What are you telling me? That Alex attacked Bryce?" At once she realized that he had been down on Level 13 for quite a long time…

"I-I-I saw it with my own eyes-s!" Max insisted. "B-B-Bryce is in trouble. You need to get-g-g-get down there right away-way!"

Thera was so surprised, both by the message Max brought and the serious tone that reminded her so much of Edison that she didn't notice when Murray approached her from behind. As a result, it completely startled her when she heard his voice rang out. "Max, what are you doing here? Is Edison done with his work?"

Theora spun around in her seat and both she and Max blurted with one voice, "Bryce has been attacked." ("ta-a-acked.")

"What?" Murray stated simply, glancing from one face to the other. "By whom?"

"Alex," Theora breathed. "Max saw it happen in Bryce's studio."

"He s-s-s-smashed one of the TV's d-d-down-d-down there too," Max continued. "I think so, any-anyway, because I c-c-can't connect to it anymore-more."

Still Murray stood in one place, confusion scrawled across his countenance. "But why would he-"

"Go to B-B-Bryce," Max urged, and with that he was gone. Theora's ears were suddenly filled with shouts of "Control, where are you?"

"…Edison," she gasped, as Murray rushed to her side. Her fingers settled themselves on the typewriter keys and grew rigid. "Max just appeared-"

"Oh, good God," Edison groaned. "What could he possibly have to say that was worth interrupting my work for?"

There was no time to point out that Max had intruded upon Theora's work more than Edison's. "He said something's happened to Bryce. Alex Burgess has attacked him."

There was a brief moment of dead air, and then Edison's voice filtered through- "What." No question mark hung at the end of the statement. Edison was simply in disbelief.

Murray took over, leaning into Theora's space. "Edison, you've got to come back here. Max has your instinct for the truth- he wouldn't make up a sick story like this. Bryce could be in danger."

"What was he doing at Bryce's?" Edison said, harshness starting to enter his tone. "And why would he-"

"There's no time to ask questions," Theora said. "You have to come back."

A moment's hesitation. Then, in a deadly threatening, a single word crawled out of Edison's mouth- "Okay." The Disconnect icon flashed up on the monitor's screen.

Theora was already out of her seat, imploring Murray with her eyes, but Murray shook his head in response to the unasked question. "I want you to stay at Control to wait for Edison. I'm going down to Level 13 to check out Bryce's studio."

"All right," Theora murmured in a resigned manner, sinking back down into her chair. Her heart was speeding, and she tried to calm herself by taking deep breaths. However bad Bryce's injuries were, Murray would come to his rescue. "I'll connect to the Securicam downstairs if you don't mind."

Murray nodded and then pushed past Theora, briskly making his way to the door.

After a few moments of letting the situation wash over her, Theora finally moved her hand across the keyboard, establishing a link with Bryce's Securicam. Her mind was in turmoil, but she frantically tried to push it back. It was true that Max wasn't given to lying, except when he had to, but Theora couldn't help but hope that he had mistaken what he had seen. Why would Alex, a respected citizen, attack an innocent network employee like Bryce? _He's just sixteen years old, _she thought, her heart freezing as the link went dead. _What could he have possibly done to anyone? _It wasn't until she realized that the Securicam had been tampered with that Les's accusatory words came back to her, resounding residually in her ears. He had invoked Alex Burgess's name for a reason after all…

Her heart thudding, Theora sank back and refused to allow her mind to make sense.

Murray cursed under his breath as he traveled downstairs to Level 13 and strode down the long hallway to Bryce's lab. Unlike Theora, he was not worrying over Bryce or wondering why Alex Burgess would attack him. He was just angered that Alex had been let into Network 23 at all, and that Edison could be tricked into believing that he was an innocent man. Never mind that Theora and Murray had both fallen for Alex's spell hook, line, and sinker. Murray was seething at the thought of accidentally letting a criminal into Network 23_- this will look bad for our reputation!-_ by the time he reached the closed door of Bryce's studio. He opened it easily and stepped inside, surveying his surroundings. At first there didn't seem to be a hair out of place, but then Murray noticed the smashed TV lying on the floor. It pulled at his heartstrings a bit to see the machine lying there. _Sacrilege!_

"Bryce?" Murray called out, walking forward. He didn't stop and wait for the nonexistent response. The most he expected to find was a bruised and bloodied Bryce Lynch, huddled in a corner in need of medical assistance. It came as a surprise when he nearly stumbled over something lying at his feet, and realized upon backing away that this _something_ was in fact Bryce, in the nude, curled in on himself in a fetal position. His eyes were open, but seemed not to see anything, and his glasses lay smashed by his head. His face was gouged with red cuts, presumably from either the broken glasses or the TV's screen, which lay slaughtered in shards at Murray's feet.

"Hey, Bryce, can you hear me?" Murray questioned, strangely unmoved by the sight before him. He had seen worse injuries before, and hell, he had never really liked the kid before. There had always been some smug aura about him- _it's really very simple, I don't see why you don't understand… _There was no response from Bryce, which Murray had to admit was unusual. He knelt on the linoleum floor and waved his hand in front of Bryce's face. "Hey. Can you hear me?" Bryce's listless, glazed eyes didn't follow Murray's motion.

Swallowing, Murray cast his eyes across the floor, searching for Bryce's clothes. They lay beside him in a carelessly strewn heap. He moved over to retrieve them, and in that moment noticed what he hadn't noticed before, due to the darkness of the room- Bryce's shoulders and upper back were covered in burgeoning bruises. Murray let his eyes travel farther down, without thinking, and then stopped, seeing a thick-looking fluid smeared on the floor. He reached out gingerly, felt the stickiness, and knew immediately what had transpired. Murray shot to his feet like a rocket and glanced over at the Securicam, only to find that its light was out. _That bastard Alex-! _His feet carried him over to the viewphone, where his fingers punched in the number for the city's medical center.

After making the distress call, Murray returned to Bryce's side, unsure of what to do. Only since his wife had announced her intention to leave him had Murray felt as helpless. He sat down next to Bryce and, at a loss for any more preferable actions, draped Bryce's clothes around his prone body and gently began rubbing his back in what he hoped was a comforting manner. He wasn't good at this sort of thing, true, and that might be why he hadn't truly connected to his daughter, hadn't been enough of a man for his wife…

"It's okay, Bryce," Murray murmured. "You're going to get the best medical treatment that the doctors can give you. We're going to find Alex and make him pay for hurting you…" Such a sentiment sounded more like something Edison would say, but Murray couldn't stop it from sliding out of his mouth. "It's okay," he repeated awkwardly, and then shut up, staring at the bright doorway and thinking of what fools everyone had been.

The doors burst open, and Theora snapped to her feet in preparation to receive the murderous Edison as he blew in. His dark eyes sparked, and he ignored everyone else in the room but Theora, standing at his destination. She crept out from behind her monitor just in time for Edison to reach her and shout, "What the hell was Alex doing in Bryce's studio?!"

Theora gulped, realizing that he had come to the conclusion that Alex had deceived them all much more quickly than she had. "Edison," she half-whispered, trying to go to him, but backing off at the sight of his intensely furious eyes. "How could any of us known that he would-"

"Which one of you sent him down there?" he interrupted, casting threatening glances towards the employees who hovered and collected in sizable groups, waiting to see if Edison would chew out his controller. Theora wavered, reluctant to say anything. It suddenly hit her that she was the one who had led Alex in the direction of Bryce, and that Edison would immediately put the blame on her. But how was she to have known Alex's intentions?

"Please," Theora began, trying not to raise her voice. "Just calm down and-"

"Bryce has been attacked and you're asking me to _calm down_?" Edison stated, incredulous. "I saw an ambulance helicopter land on our helipad. This is more serious than you may realize." He turned around and verbally lashed at the onlookers. "And you guys should stop rubbernecking. This isn't mindless entertainment, you know. This is real."

The employees bowed their heads and began to shuffle back to their seats, but Theora knew that they would keep one ear each on the conversation and would gossip about it no matter what. Edison turned back around and forced Theora to meet his eyes, his presence scorching her. "Theora… where is Alex now?"

"I don't know," she replied, her voice quavering a bit with stress. "I- I suggested that he drop in on Bryce, and the next thing I know-"

"You _suggested_ this?" Edison blurted, coming forward. His body was vibrating like a tightly wound spring about to uncoil. Theora took a step back, feeling more threatened by her friend than she had by the stranger Alex.

Fortunately, that was when Murray decided to make his appearance, bustling through the doors with a strained expression on his face. Both Edison and Theora moved to face him, wordlessly awaiting the news. All of the other fellow employees peeked out from behind their desks, focusing intently on the next stage of the battle.

"Murray, what's going-" Edison began, but he was silenced by Murray's quiet statement. "Alex Burgess has raped Bryce."

A shocked silence filled the air. Even the TVs seemed to quiet.

"The Securicam in his studio was smashed, so there's no record of what he did," Murray continued, his voice heavy. "Bryce is being transported to the medical center as we speak. He's unresponsive- I think he's in shock."

"Oh my God," Theora whispered, without daring to glance at Edison. She was nervously terrified of what she might find on his face. But though her eyes were turned away, she could still feel the angry, violent energy radiating off of him as he processed Murray's words, and suddenly the _snap _came. Edison spun around and rounded on Theora, glaring and shouting.

"You sent Alex down there! You caused this to happen!" He was so close that Theora had to back all the way up against a desk, holding her arms out in front of her for protection. "You're responsible for Bryce's condition-!"

Theora flinched, cringing away from Edison's wrath. For a few seconds she wondered if he would forget their friendship and his moral code and actually hit her, but then she heard Murray cry out, "Edison, what are you doing?" and looked up to see him wrestling Edison back, away from Theora. She dropped her stance and stared at the two men in anguish.

"I'm sorry, Edison," she said, her voice far from calm, but it was the best she could do at the moment. "But you're being irrational. None of us knew that Alex would…" She swallowed. "We all trusted him."

_Except for me. _It came in a flash to Theora that she had only sent Alex away from her because he had been inappropriately flirting with her. She had been the only person to see his less-than-exemplary behavior, and she hadn't called him out on it, instead sending him directly to the perfect victim. _Damn! _If Theora had obeyed her gut instincts and not trusted Alex any longer, Bryce would have been saved. She glanced down at the solid floor beneath her feet, longing for comfort and to turn back time. There was no way she could mention Alex's advances to Edison.

Edison, meanwhile, had been released by Murray and was calmer now, though his hands were still clenched and his jaw was still set firmly. Murray studied him with a mixture of pity and bewilderment. "I don't understand what's just happened," he said. "Alex appeared to be, for all intents and purposes, a respectable citizen. And you wouldn't have brought him here had you had any inclination of this side of his nature…" He stared at Edison as if challenging him to defend his choice, but Edison only gazed fiercely back and then hung his head.

"I'll take the blame if that's what you want, Murray. I just-" His voice rose in pitch, and his two hands locked together in a single fist. "I just can't believe he would have done this!"

"I can't believe we were tricked so badly," Theora spoke up, and both Edison and Murray looked over at her. Theora locked eyes with Edison, and found that he was debating internally whether or not to blame her for what had happened to Bryce, or to blame himself.

"I thought you told me that Alex had undergone some sort of treatment that made him loathe violence," Murray said, addressing Theora. The search for answers was written across his face. There was nothing Theora could do to assuage him, though. "That's exactly what it said in his file," she replied. "If the treatment had been reversed, I don't know why it wouldn't have said so anywhere. Alex is a dangerous man, and we should have been warned of that…" Les's words rang in her ears again, and she realized that everything the boy had accused Alex of must have been true.

"He used us," Edison spat. "He must be held responsible. He used me to gain access to a network building, not out of interest, not to spy on us, not even to steal anything or kidnap anyone, but all for one sick fuck." He shook his head and looked away.

For a few moments no one said anything, dealing with the events in their own individual ways, and then Murray spoke up. "I think we need to notify the Metrocops. And Bryce's parents, of course. It wouldn't do to have them find out that their son has been beaten and raped from a late-night news program, when the story gets out." At the last sentence, Edison grumbled something under his breath.

"Bryce's parents…" Theora breathed to herself quietly. She had never imagined the friendly teenaged genius as having parents. Bryce had hardly ever mentioned them, except to state that he hadn't seen them in a long time after graduating from ACS. The existence of a family suddenly made the situation even more real to Theora. Her heart twisted to think of the first news that the Lynches had heard from their son for a couple of years would be news of his attack… And she had indirectly placed Bryce in the face of that attack.

Murray pierced Theora with his eye, and she glanced up expectantly. "I'm going to make the calls, and I expect you to do some research on this Ludovico treatment," he told her. "Contact someone who knows about Alex's trial for murder- you did say he had been convicted for murdering someone?" Theora nodded, and Murray continued. "Find out everything you can about the state of Alex's file and his past. And as for you…" He looked over at Edison, who slowly raised his eyes to stare dully in return.

"Go downstairs and find out where Alex made his escape," Murray said. "Question everyone you meet. Hell, for all we know he's still on the premises. Go find him."

"All right, boss," Edison said in a voice that lacked sincerity, and gave a sarcastic smile. Murray sighed.

"Look, I know it's hard for all of us to deal with this… tragedy. But the only way to help Bryce is if we find Alex and bring him to justice, and the only way to do that is to keep working."

Though she said nothing, Theora silently nodded. Murray was absolutely right in saying that the only way to help was to keep working. Her heart burned for Bryce's plight, but there was nothing she could do but throw herself into the task Murray had assigned her in hopes that she would uncover something important. She gazed at Edison, who seemed to want to rebel from his body language, but ultimately nodded sharply and began to move forward towards the door. He knew that there was no use in fighting when his actions could help someone out.

"Thank you for listening to me," Murray murmured, and then turned to make his way to the office viewphone. Alone at last, Theora sat back down at her seat and went to connect to London's mainframe, her mind slowly burying itself in uncovering the truth.

Murray sat down heavily in his seat at the viewphone and took a few moments to thank God for privacy and to collect himself before making the dreaded call. Just like Theora and Edison, he had never met Bryce's parents before, and had to look up their number in the digital phone book. This distraction gave him time to think about how he would react if he learned that his daughter, who was roughly Bryce's age, had been beaten and raped by Alex Burgess. Ever since Murray had found Bryce in his catatonic state, and been moved emotionally in a way he had never felt before towards Bryce, he had tried to imagine how much worse it would be if his Ashleigh had taken Bryce's place. He broke off from the vision with a shudder- if a character like Alex Burgess came anywhere near Ashleigh, he would tell him in no polite terms where he could go. Empathy for Bryce's parents surged in Murray's heart, and he gritted his teeth as he found the number and dialed it into the viewphone, steeling himself for a painful talk.

"...Hello?" Murray found himself staring into the eyes of a very confused-looking woman, her brunette hair done up in curlers. She frantically glanced behind herself as if checking for any incriminating sights, and then gave her hair and clothes a few pats before leaning in closer to the viewphone, her worried blue eyes nearly filling the entire screen. "Who am I speaking to?"

"Mrs. Lynch…" Murray breathed, sighing at the shock that was sure to come in a few moments. "My name is Murray. I'm a producer at Network 23, and I'm here to inform you that something… terrible had just happened to your son Bryce…"

As was expected, the revelation was horrifying for Mrs. Lynch, and the information grew doubly painful as she called her husband into the room and repeated what Murray had just told her in a disbelieving, stupefied voice. There was nothing Murray could tell them but a terse apology, not allowing any emotion to saturate his words, and let them know that Bryce had been transferred to the city medical center. He disconnected their line after Mrs. Lynch tearfully thanked him for letting them know, and the last image of the couple that he saw was Mrs. Lynch burying her face in Mr. Lynch's shoulder, his arms around her but his eyes far away. Closing his eyes, Murray expelled another sigh and once again gathered himself before calling the Metrocops.

"Hey, Murray? What can we do for you?"

"There's been an attack at our network building," Murray said straight away, mincing no words. "Our head of technology was raped by an intruder-" no need to scare anyone by admitting that Network 23 had been deceived by the leader of the child gangs himself- "and he hasn't been apprehended yet. I'd like it if you could come down here and conduct a search, that is if Edison hasn't found him by then." He paused and then added gruffly, "The least you can do is to raise an alarm for the citizens."

"For one intruder?" The chief of the Metrocops chuckled, albeit in a reserved way, as he didn't want to offend Murray by making light of the awful situation at 23. "What kind of a guy are you looking for?"

"The guy who was behind the recent gang activity," Murray answered, deciding it was time to be blunt. Alex Burgess was loose in his city, and it was the fault of Network 23 employees. The Metrocops deserved to understand exactly who it was they were dealing with. "His name is Alexander Burgess, and he's got blond hair, blue eyes, dressed in a gray suit, about six feet tall… I mean about two meters," he corrected himself, remembering that the customary system of measurement had only recently gone out of style a few years ago. "And he's very dangerous. Proceed with caution."

As soon as the Metrocop's chief had gotten the message and set off to gather the other Metrocops and warn them, Murray started to get up from his seat, spent from having to do what he considered the gristliest work compared to Theora and Edison's lightweight tasks. Then a thought crossed his mind, and it made him groan before he returned to his seat. Cheviot's board of network executives needed to be informed of what had just happened to Bryce, and Murray could already guess that their reactions would be anything but easy to handle.

"Hey, Theora?" Theora glanced up from her work at the monitor to find Tina, a blonde controller with whom she sometimes chatted and worked close by, standing over her work area with a deeply concerned expression on her face. Theora blinked a bit to get her mind to focus on the real world again, and then replied, "What it is, Tina?" She worked at presenting a calm outward expression- of course tragedy had befallen Network 23, but she couldn't go to pieces over it if she expected any necessary work to get done.

Tina glanced around nervously, and then lowered her voice to a whisper. "That Alex Burgess fellow… I didn't like him very much. He was eyeing me as soon as he came through the door this morning. I'm sure he would have inched his way over and started sweet-talking if you had shown up late." She swallowed. "I can't believe he would have done this to poor Bryce…"

"And we ignored the signs," Theora finished softly, gazing down at her monitor once more. She was grateful for Tina's distraction, even if it was a sad conversation- her search for more information regarding the Ludovico treatment had led to mainly dead ends, with only two promising leads- the name of the man that Ludovico had been named for, and the name of the doctor who had forced Alex to undergo it. Shaking her hair out, she gazed upon Tina's glum face and tried to reassure her. "What Alex did to Bryce was not your fault, Tina. There was no way any one of us could have seen this coming."

"But… I could have warned someone that he was trying to flirt with me," Tina said, her shoulders slumping.

"And what good would that do?" Theora chided. "There was no incriminating evidence other than the fact that you didn't like Alex Burgess. Not liking someone is hardly a cause for alarm."

Tina stared at Theora for a moment before lowering her head, and Theora began to get the uncomfortable feeling that rarely visited her anymore, but had been prevalent during her first days working as Edison's controller. Though the other controllers had quickly accepted her, she had always felt a bit like a fish out of water, as if she was more intelligent and better at her work than everyone else and thus no one at Network 23 could truly understand her. She glanced down at her keyboard and willed the emotion to go away.

"God, but Bryce is such a good kid though," Tina piped up, studying her shoes. "He came down here when you were helping Edison find that Blank kid, and he was absolutely amazing… made me want to quit my job." She laughed shortly, and then remembered the black cloud that hung over Network 23 and stopped immediately.

It was then that Edison returned as if he had heard his name mentioned, and with a downhearted, "See ya, Theora," Tina returned to her desk. Theora followed Edison with her eyes as he walked slowly over to her work area, and it was evident from one look at him that the search had been unsuccessful. Edison moved aimlessly, as if he didn't care where he was going or how long it took him to get there, and his eyes were glued to the floor, not bothering to look up and meet Theora. As soon as he got to Theora's side, he peered at the monitor's screen without much interest before informing her of what she already knew. "I searched all over the damn building and I didn't find Alex anywhere. Not only that, but no one I met claimed to have seen him leave, not even the door guard!" He exhaled angrily and turned his head away. "I'm sure he's been bribed."

"My search was nearly fruitless as well," Theora stated in a disappointed tone. "I didn't find anything in regards to how the Ludovico treatment works, but I did discover the name of the doctor who administered it to Alex." The name tasted like bile in her mouth. "He doesn't appear to be practicing anymore, though."

"Shit." Edison looked back at the monitor and studied the scant information it displayed. "Did you find out anything else that could be of use?"

Theora hesitated, remembering a piece of information that she had first come across when reading Alex's file, but she hadn't thought it necessary to point out at the time. "Well, I realized that because Alex has a government job, he'll have a harder time getting a trial, because so many people are willing to speak in his favor. Apparently he's a strong supporter of the Minister of the Interior in London, which means the Minister will be biased towards his cause. When we find him, he can't just go on You The Jury like everyone else."

"Great," Edison sniped. "He's committed a crime that he might not even be prosecuted for."

"We don't have to worry about the trial quite yet, though," Theora pointed out, swiveling in her seat so that she could gaze directly at Edison's face. "Our first objective is finding him, and we will find him. We did okay with finding the original gang members, you know."

"I know," Edison muttered, nodding, and then looked away from Theora, as if realizing how exposed he was to her. "I… Theora, I can't believe this has happened. Bryce didn't deserve this… and he's at the medical center because of our bad judgment. _My _bad judgment." Hanging his head down, Edison stared at the floor as if it were the most interesting thing in the world. "It was wrong to accuse you, Theora. I'm the one responsible for all this. If I had stuck to my gut and believed what Les told me instead of being swayed by Alex, Bryce would be okay." His words came out in a hiss. "He would have _never _gotten hurt."

Hearing Edison blame himself so strongly for Bryce's attack made Theora cringe. In most situations, Edison was too headstrong to ever admit that he had screwed up. But now he had gone beyond screwing up, and it was time to face the bitter truth. Still, Theora didn't believe that the blame rested solely on Edison's shoulders. She rose from her seat and gently laid her hand against his back. "It could have happened to anyone. Alex was very convincing, more convincing than we realized."

"Yes, but…" Edison raised his head and turned towards Theora, angling his body her way, and try as she might to resist it Theora felt a flush of warmth spread over her skin as he drew closer. "It had to happen to me. To us. To Bryce."

"It's not your fault," Theora soothed, moving closer without realizing she was doing it. Her hand moved to Edison's shoulder, and their eyes met in a quick second that felt like a lightning strike. "We were all tricked by Alex…"

Edison said nothing, but reached up to cover Theora's hand with his own, his expression filling with anguish. Theora took his hand and brought it down, twining her fingers through his. They locked eyes again, this time unable to look away. Edison began to lean in ever so slowly.

That was when Murray walked out of his office, and the startled pair broke apart, inches away from having been caught in a compromising position. Theora was shocked as she sank back down in her seat. What had she nearly done? She had nearly allowed Edison to… fulfill his desires, to kiss her where everyone could see. Shame raced through her as she thought of how Kent would have reacted had he been there.

"Did you find him?" Murray asked Edison the instant he came within earshot, and Edison shook his head in defeat. "I swear to God someone bribed Stanley to keep quiet about Alex's whereabouts. No one seemed to have any clue where he could have gone, if they admitted to seeing him at all." He exhaled forcefully from his nose.

"Well, I've got the Metrocops coming down soon to do a wide scan of the area," Murray said. "Though if Alex is smart enough he would have fled town and gone back to London. But if he's hiding out somewhere, we'll find him."

He pushed past Edison and moved towards the flickering lights of Theora's monitor. "I had to call the people upstairs to tell them what had happened to Bryce. They didn't take the news so well."

"Let me guess," Edison began in a cynical tone. "They were more concerned for the sake of our reputation than for Bryce's welfare?"

"You got that right," Murray sighed. "Although they did seem genuinely worried about Bryce. Anyway, they want you to do a story on this tonight." He gave Edison a piercing look. "You're to visit the med center and report what's happened to Bryce, then give a description of Alex for our local viewers."

"It's not every day they script my stories," Edison muttered. "I was thinking of heading over there anyway."

"Good." Murray turned his gaze onto Theora. "If there's anything you uncovered during your research, let me know now before we start preparing for the broadcast."

"Nothing of note came up, Murray," Theora replied, surrendering the link to the London files at last. "I'm ready whenever you and Edison are."

"I'm ready now," Edison blurted, already making for the door. Murray called after him. "There's just one more thing I have to tell you. Bryce's parents are down at the med center already, and they might… give you a hard time."

"After what happened today, I really couldn't give a damn," Edison admitted, halfway out the door by that point. Theora dutifully began preparing for broadcast as Murray broke away and gave orders. "Clear a three-minute slot an hour from now for the Edison Carter Show!"

It was a broadcast exactly like all the others, Theora reflected as she sat in her seat watching the world through Edison's vidicam, and yet it was entirely different from what she was used to. The air was charged with tension, both at Network 23 and at the medical center, and emotion lay heavy in the air. It all began when Edison arrived at the center and found Bryce's parents standing outside of the room that Bryce was being treated in, arguing with a doctor. The family resemblance was strong- both parents had Bryce's dark hair, though his mother's was tightly curled, and his father shared Bryce's nose and brown eyes. Mrs. Lynch's eyes were blue to match the color of her dress, and her face was stained with tears as she demanded that someone let her in to see Bryce. "My son has been attacked by some criminal, and you're telling me I have to wait to visit him? This is the first we've heard from him in years, and I demand the right to see my child!"

Theora grew apprehensive as the image on her monitor grew larger and larger, until finally the harried doctor looked up to greet Edison, and the Lynches glanced up too, their surprised expressions hardening into unfriendliness. Mr. Lynch crossed his arms and gazed headlong into the camera. "What's a reporter doing here?"

"Mr. Carter," the doctor cried, breaking away from Bryce's parents in obvious relief. "We got a call and heard you would be coming over. The room is all yours." He gestured towards the door that Bryce presumably lay behind, and Edison's voice carried into Theora's ears as he stated in a surprised tone, "You're letting me in but not Bryce's parents?"

"A reporter is going to see Bryce before we do?" Mrs. Lynch blurted with a note of hysteria in her voice. "This isn't fair! How dare you expose Bryce on the news before letting us even look at him!"

"Mrs. Lynch, please, if you'll calm down," the doctor murmured. "You'll be able to see your son as soon as Mr. Carter is done with his story."

"I beg to differ," Edison said, his voice filling with the sharp tones of anger. "I didn't ask for this special privilege. Who put you up to this?"

"The board executives from Network 23 made the call about thirty minutes ago," the doctor said smoothly and a bit smugly, as if pleased with herself. "I'd expect you to heed their orders."

"Not when they're unfair orders," Edison muttered, moving forward. There was nothing anyone could do but allow him to open the door, and though the doctor tried to wave them away, Theora saw Edison's hand in the corner of the vidicam's vision beckon the Lynches forward. "Come on," he said. "I'll let you have a look at Bryce."

Mrs. Lynch walked blindly forward immediately, but Mr. Lynch surprisingly took her arm and held her back. Theora flinched as if she was the one being insulted as Mr. Lynch cast a dark death glare Edison's way. "Thank you for your consideration, _Mr. Carter_, but we'll respectfully refuse," he stated coldly. "I don't want you to broadcast our grief for exploitation."

"Suit yourself," Edison murmured, and then the camera's view turned around as he entered the room. A nurse standing over the bed where Bryce was curled up caught sight of Edison and retreated from the bed, awe in her eyes, although she knew better not to blurt "You're the great Edison Carter!" at such a time.

"Bryce," Edison whispered, and as the camera drew closer, Theora felt her heart wrench into pieces.

Bryce lay on his side in bed, facing Edison but not seeming to see him. His eyes were open, but there was no sign of life behind them. They stared as dully as a dead man's would. His arms were firmly locked over his chest, as if trying to protect himself from future blows, and his face was pockmarked with heavy-duty Band-Aids in multiple spots. The camera zoomed in until Bryce's stricken face was all that Theora could see, and she had to close her eyes for a moment and focus entirely on Edison's breathing, which had sped up as he studied Bryce closely. Then she heard him say Bryce's name, and opened her eyes to see fingers resting against his sweating forehead. Bryce gave no sign of feeling the touch.

"He won't talk to you," the nurse's voice sounded thinly from far across the room. "He's completely unresponsive. It's unclear when he'll snap out of it."

Edison's camera lifted away from the horrifying vision of Bryce to train and focus on the nurse in the room. "What did Alex do to him?" he said, more as a rhetorical, stunned expression of guilt than as a real question. The nurse, however, answered matter-of-factly. "We found semen samples on the boy's body and ran it through a DNA scanner. The guy's not in our database, but I heard the person you're looking for is from London?" Edison presumably nodded, unsurprised at the velocity at which news traveled, and the nurse went on. "Added to the injuries around the point of entry, it's a no-brainer as to what happened. We collected some glass shards from the cuts on his face- it appears to have come from his glasses."

"Thank you," Edison mumbled, and then began to back away to get a wide shot of Bryce onscreen. His breathing was loud in Theora's ears. She glanced up to see where Murray was- he was finishing a chat with the chief of the Metrocops who had been asked to come in. She watched the screen idly until he approached her side and gave her a sly nod, and Theora murmured into her microphone, "Five minutes until broadcast, Edison."

"What?" he said, seemingly jerked out of his thoughts. "Oh…" She heard him exhale. "I don't know if I'm up for this."

"Fine time to cancel now," Murray muttered, but Theora shot him a brief glare. "I know it's an awful situation, Edison, but you've got to go through with the broadcast for Bryce's sake. The general public outside of the Metrocops needs to be aware that Alex is on the loose within our society. You'll be doing Bryce's family a favor-" She almost ended her statement with "As well as everyone at 23" before remembering that the executives above her head had been more concerned about their reputation. "As well as every citizen," she amended. Edison said nothing in response, but the image onscreen moved about as he tried to find the best angle to shoot from. Finally the vidicam was turned around, and Theora caught a brief glimpse of Edison's face, brow furrowed, before he set it down on the small table near Bryce's bed and knelt down in front of it. "How does this show up?"

"It's perfect," Theora said, and she meant it- she could see that Edison was going to open the broadcast with a summarization of the situation, and then take up to vidicam in his hands to reveal Bryce as evidence of what he had just informed his viewers. The right corner of her mouth pulled up grimly as she realized just how well she knew what to expect from Edison.

"Two minutes to broadcast. Prepare to stand by," Murray said, and Theora relayed this information to Edison, who had pulled up a chair to sit and wait in. "Do you know what you're going to say? It doesn't really give much time to prepare." Behind Edison's shoulder, Theora saw the nurse hovering before finally leaning out of the picture altogether. _Good. _There was no need for another person to be shown in any of the shots.

"I think I'll wing it," Edison said casually, although Theora knew that a speech had to be forming itself in his head at that very moment. "Just think, Theora- earlier today I was considering a story on ancient libraries, and now this has happened…"

"One minute," Murray said, and Theora held her breath. "Tell the nurse to clear out if need be." Edison nodded and then turned to give the nurse his advice. Letting her eyes peer up at Murray, Theora detected tension in his posture, and his eyebrows were squished together. Electricity seemed to flow through her like the current that supplied Network 23's entire building, to shoot off like a rocket as Murray shifted his gaze onto her and gave her the signal. "We're ready."

"All right," Theora said loudly and clearly through her microphone, and Edison scooted his chair back, leaning forward towards the camera with a deeply serious expression on his face. "Prepare for broadcast in five, four, three, two-"

The word LIVE flashed in red letters at the bottom of the screen, and Edison snapped into professional mode. "This is Edison Carter reporting live and direct from Network 23." Both Murray and Theora expelled shaky sighs without realizing they had been holding their breath.

"Today a young member of our very own Network 23 staff experienced a terrible tragedy," Edison said, his voice strangely detached from its usual passion. "Bryce Lynch, 23's head of technology, was assaulted in his own studio by an intruder posing as a government worker." _Funny he should perpetuate the false story, _Theora thought to herself; Murray had let her know that this was Network 23's official excuse for the time being.

"Lynch was beaten and raped by this man, who called himself Alexander Burgess," Edison continued, standing up. "He still bears the scars." Quick as a flash, the camera was lifted into Edison's arms, and the image on the screen was that of Bryce's blank face, so suddenly painful that Theora had to look away for a moment and rein in her emotional response. Emotion began leaking into Edison's voice as he spoke, and his words were raw and fired at his listening audience of what was sure to be thousands.

"Held at the city medical center, Bryce is now in a severe catatonic state," Edison said, his steady voice beginning to show some cracks. Theora felt a lump growing in her own throat, but she furiously swallowed past it. "It is unclear how long he will be out of commission, just as it is unclear as to what would drive a man to do this in the first place." His voice swelled with passion. "Alex Burgess has not been tracked down, but he is considered to be very dangerous. He is suspected of being the mastermind behind the recent gang activity among the teenagers of this city."

"Now he's done it," Murray murmured in a voice lower than a whisper. Theora watched rapturously. Edison thankfully turned the camera away from Bryce and onto his own face, rage warring with a broken expression across his countenance. His eyes were fiercely lit up, blazing with internal flame.

"Burgess was last seen this morning when he entered Network 23's headquarters. He is presumed to have left later in the afternoon. He is about two meters tall, believed to weigh 91 kilograms, possesses sandy blond hair and blue eyes and was last seen wearing a gray suit. On behalf of Network 23, I ask each and every one of you to keep an eye out for this man, who's got a lot to answer for. I ask you to overcome your very nature and walk boldly into the places you have been warned against since you were children. There is no reward for finding Burgess but the satisfaction of knowing that the life you saved may have been your own…" Edison swallowed, and then finished his statement in a strained voice. "Or Bryce Lynch's."

The pause was heavy in the air.

"Once again, this is Edison Carter from Network 23," he wrapped up, and then the LIVE icon disappeared from the screen as the closing graphics were shown. Theora waited, because she saw that Edison hadn't disconnected his camera yet, in case he had something to say. When the image of the room in the medical center returned, the nurse had appeared and was bending over Bryce as the door to the room opened and the Lynches rushed in, followed by the doctor. Theora hardly noticed any of these things, however, or at least they didn't immediately register with her, because she was disturbed by the jiggling motion of the vidicam. A second later she realized with much surprise that the image was shaking along with Edison's hands. He turned around as soon as Bryce's parents walked in, brushing past them to exit the room. His breathing was all that penetrated Theora's ears.

"Edison, are you all-" she began, but in a flash Edison had hauled the camera up so that she could see his face. There was no trace of depression, only of molten anger and strong determination.

"I'm going to get Alex for doing this to Bryce," he said, and his words scalded Theora even through the distance. "I don't know how I'm going to find him, but the wisdom of the crowd will point the way. I'll _murder _him for hurting Bryce this bad."

Theora could only sit, shocked, as DISCONNECTED appeared on the screen and Edison's face and voice were lost to her. At a loss, she glanced helplessly up at Murray, who sighed without looking at her.

"I'll deal with him when he gets back here. You can head home now. There's been enough stress today without having to throw a murderous Edison Carter on top of it all."

Despite herself, Theora couldn't help but emit one deep chuckle. "Thank you, Murray." She turned away and gathered her scant personal belongings. "I do hope Bryce heals soon."

"So do I," Murray muttered as Theora headed for the door, grateful for her early release but also deeply upset by the trauma of the day.

It interested Theora, but didn't really surprise her, to find Kent standing outside her apartment building once she got home, melting out of the shadows to approach her with open arms and a worried expression. "I saw the news on 23. Are you all right?" Now that she was away from her duty to TV and from prying eyes, Theora felt the emotions that she had squished onto the head of a pin unfurl from within her. She accepted Kent's arms and buried her face in his shoulder, whispering brokenly in his ear, "I'm fine, Kent, honestly…" But she wasn't fine and he knew it. They rode up to Theora's floor together, his grip like steel on her arm.

Inevitably, their first time in Theora's apartment together wound up being their first night spent as a couple. Theora wasn't sure when the weeping transitioned into hungry kisses, but she ended up putting her pain into him as if he was a blank canvas, waiting to be filled with the fruit of her emotion. At the end of the act, she turned towards the nearest wall, away from the viewphone, with her head pounding and the words of a late-night soap opera ringing dully in her ears. She barely felt it when Kent wrapped his arms around her and held her ever so gently and sweetly all through the rest of the night.


	6. Chapter 6

As soon as he was free from Network 23's imposing building, Alex DeLarge hit the ground running. He didn't care who noticed his conspicuous exit as he raced down sidewalks and wound his way through the maze of alleyways behind the civilian homes. The only thing on his mind was the instinct to run, run and hide, and stay hidden until he could get a grip on his mind once more.

Eventually Alex ran out of breath, and he cowered behind the nearest stack of TVs and waited for his strength to return. The TVs chattered cacophonously, each one tuned to a different channel. Alex felt a brief hatred for them as he listened to the garbage being broadcast, but quickly forced the emotion back. He had to calm down now, become the respectable Alex Burgess once more.

Finally Alex had caught his breath and a hold on his sanity. He shoved off from the heap of TVs and began to walk, his mind turning over the events of the day. After living for years trying to quell his violent urges and present a "cured" persona to the world, he had finally snapped at the sight of such an innocent young boy in such a high position of power. Just remembering Bryce's bewildered face made Alex's hands curl into fists. He kicked the wall to expel some of the energy that had built inside of him, and listened for the sound of human voices. No one appeared to be around, and so Alex continued on to the end of the alley, stopping before he stepped out into the sunlight.

Attacking the boy had been all fine and good, and it had provided Alex with a good bit of the old ultraviolence that he had desperately missed. But now that his head was cleared, now that he was away from the oppressive environment of Network 23, the impact of what he had done was starting to catch up to him. He had raped an employee of one of the highest-level TV networks in the world, and for that there was sure to be serious consequences, especially if the boy didn't survive. Alex realized at that moment that he couldn't return to London, for as soon as Bryce was discovered everyone would be looking for the culprit- and Carter would know exactly who had done it, not to mention Max. Furious with himself and for losing control of his actions, Alex growled sharply under his breath, turned to the wall, and combed his fingers violently through his hair, letting the product out. Soon his hair was as messy as it had been back when he was a ragged boy exploring the streets without a care in the world. It seemed like a world away from the esteemed government worker he had become, the mask he had grown to hate.

In that moment, as Alex was wondering what the hell he could possibly do with himself to prevent the Metrocops from finding him, an idea struck him like lightning. He would go to the Fringes. He would become that violent young boy once again, though he had to keep a low profile to make sure he wouldn't be captured. Amidst the dreariness of the Fringes, which teemed with homelessness and poverty, Alex would disappear and blend right in. If he found the right location where the Metrocops would never go, he could hide indefinitely.

And so Alex set off with a new swing in his step and a whistle at his lips, smiling his wide, demonic smile to anyone who was foolish enough to glance his way.

By nightfall Alex found himself in a run-down bar, sitting at the crowded counter waiting impatiently to order a drink. Milk bars appeared to be either out of fashion or outlawed, for Alex couldn't find a single one across the Fringes. He had been disappointed for a bit, until he remembered that the only reason he attached such sentimentality to these mestos was that they had been his refuge when he was a teenager, letting him loophole the laws of underage drinking. Now that Alex was old enough to drink the alcohol that he had never gotten the chance to try, excitement was building in his gut. He stared down the Fringers that surrounded him and sneered whenever they got their drinks, their eyes lighting up as if they had seen Bog Himself. Apparently the Fringers didn't use credit tubes, which had appealed to Alex immensely- he had never gotten the hang of those newfangled things. A brief mugging and leaving the victim unconscious had been all it would take to gain some quick and easy cash.

While Alex waited to place his order and the drink-muddled Fringers crowed and shoved at his back, trying to jostle their way to the bar, his ears caught a snatch of dialogue from the TV that sat on a barrel behind him. He turned his head a fraction to see what was going on, for he could have sworn he had heard his own name- and he found himself coming face to face with Edison Carter onscreen. His insides turned to ice, and his ears pricked to clearly take in the report.

"Burgess was last seen this morning when he entered Network 23's headquarters. He is presumed to have left later in the afternoon. He is about two meters tall, believed to weigh 62 kilograms, possesses sandy blond hair and blue eyes and was last seen wearing a gray suit. On behalf of Network 23, I ask each and every one of you to keep an eye out for this man…"

Alex tore his gaze away from the TV and back to the bar, but inside his heart was pounding. He resisted the urge to glance nervously at the TV again- what if someone grew suspicious of his actions? From the one look he had cast towards the TV in the first place, he had seen several patrons huddled around it intently- there always would be those addicts- although a few seemed particularly drunk and probably wouldn't recognize Alex in the shady light of the bar. Recognizable or not, however, he knew immediately that he had to get out of there. So much for enjoying his newfound freedom as an adult- now that Carter had exposed him, Alex knew that the best thing to do was to duck and cover.

He cleared the bar as well as he could- a mob of frustrated Fringers immediately slid into place to argue and jostle each other anew- and escaped into the streets, winding his way through the shadows that he was excellent at finding. Yes, it had been a long time since he had caused nightly panic and mayhem to spread throughout the city, but old habits died hard. Soon Alex's jovial mood returned, and he smiled secretively to himself, though in the back of his mind he was still privately concerned that Carter had released a description of him to the public and urged them to go and search for him. How was he to have any fun being incognito if he ran a high risk of being arrested, more so now than in the past, even?

As Alex slid among the shadows and slipped easily through crowds of people as if he were a fish slipping through water, he began to take notice in the makeshift dwellings to each side of him. Many at first glance appeared to be nothing but trash, but as Alex peered closer he saw that the piles of garbage were in fact cleverly modeled into miniature houses, for the people of the Fringes to live constantly in fear of being swept under the feet of others. He pulled himself out of the flow of people and studied the houses from a distance, an idea taking place in his mind. Perhaps he could find one of these dwellings abandoned, and hole up there. It would certainly hold him for a while until he either established a new gang to protect him or found a better use for his time. Upon making his mind up, Alex didn't give his decision a second thought. He marched out of the shadows he was lurking in and entered one of the ramshackle homes along the street side. It was just like entering a house on a surprise visit, only much easier to do.

"Hey!" A voice came ringing out, and Alex was startled to find that the ground beneath his feet was moving. "Who's there?" He surged backward as a young woman rolled up from underneath him, clutching her pocket and drawing out a shiv, which she held out threateningly towards him.

"There is no like need to be poogly of me, my sister," Alex found himself saying, dropping to his knees. The nadsat-talk had flowed from him as easily as if he hadn't given it up a few years ago, his voice slipping into its authoritative, wonted accent. "I am merely like searching for a domy to stay the nochy in, as I do not like live around here and am very very lost all on my malenky oddy-knocky."

The woman's mouth hardened, and Alex got the feeling she was narrowing her eyes beneath the dark glasses that she wore. She shook the blade in a way that clearly meant business to her, but to Alex just looked pathetic. "Well, you'd better leave. This is my house, and intruders are not invited."

Alex didn't reply, instead cocking his head to gaze more intently at the woman's shielded eyes. Could it be that she was… He quickly darted in and yanked the glasses from the woman's face, leaning back as she lunged forward with the shiv. "HEY! Give those back!" Alex didn't heed this demand, instead backing all the way to the entrance of the domy and watching the woman with interest. Her head swung back and forth, clearly trying to determine where Alex had gone. One glance at her face revealed blank, unseeing eyes. A grin spread over Alex's face, and he quickly tossed the glasses in his hand away. This woman would do, both for ensuring his protection and for a bit of the old in-out-in-out that he had last relished that morning.

"What is your eemya, my sister?" Alex purred, daring to move forward. The woman sat back on her heels, an angry expression filling her face and her eyes bizarrely looking away from Alex as she spoke. "My _what?"_

"Your name, sweet thing," Alex explained patiently. "What is your name?"

"What's it to you?" She spat on the ground. "I told you to get out."

Ah, a feisty devotchka- Alex couldn't say they were his favorite type, but they did provide the immense satisfaction of feeling the fight drain out of them as he kissed them. He came forward and knocked the woman over, using his weight to press her to the ground. "I will not do as you skazat, my sister, unless you do as I skazat. Tell me, sweet vesch, what is your eemya?"

She struggled furiously, but Alex reached for her blade and sharply nicked the back of her wrist. The woman cried out, more in surprise than in pain, and Alex angrily slapped her across the face. "Shut your sodding rot! There'll not be any creeching from you unless I tell you to. Now, for the last time- what is your eemya?"

"P- Poncho," she gasped, and Alex snorted. _A devotchka named "Poncho?" _He was about to go in for the kill when Poncho suddenly spoke up, her voice high with fright. "I know where you came from! You're one of the boys from the gang that Network 23 caught a few days ago! You won't get away with-"

Alex roughly clapped his hand over Poncho's mouth to stop her from saying anything else incriminating. "One more slovo, my sister, and you get the old in-out twice as hard. And if you ever go like running to the millicents, I will bash your brains out of your gulliver. You pony that, sweet vesch?" His voice was razor-sharp, and Poncho did nothing but lie there, fear running across her entire face. Alex took her cooperativeness as the sign to begin. He leaned in and cupped her face in both hands, his mouth inches away from her tender lips.

"You, dear Poncho, will be, shall we skazat, a real horrorshow lay." He kissed her and Poncho's world went black.

Sun rose on the city that had once again become a city of terror, and the incessant babble from the million TVs was there to greet it. Max Headroom zipped across networks using his access to the city's mainframe as a portal. He emerged during a lull in Network 23's broadcasting to chatter away to anyone who was awake at that hour- mainly TV technicians, who had to pull all-nighters at their networks to ensure that everything was running smoothly.

"It's a n-n-n-new day, people-p-people! The sun-sun-sun is shining, the b-b-birds are singing- or at least they w-w-would-w-would be if pollution hadn't-n't d-driven them away-ay. Ah, g-g-good old mankind, destroying ev-ev-everything it d-deems useless-u-useless!" Max grinned sardonically and then went on with his morning report.

"In other n-n-news, Network 23-23-23 is experiencing a s-slump in ratings!" He gazed about into the dreary eyes of his small audience, and counted up the apathy in a millisecond before continuing with, "Not that a-a-anyone cares about th-that…"

Kent was gone when Theora awoke, and it took a moment for her to realize why she was so cold under the blanket. She rolled over, hazily calling his name- and caught sight of the viewphone at her bedside. Someone was frantically trying to call her. Hurriedly, Theora pulled the sheets around herself bindingly, not caring if her bare arms would give away the action from the night before. For all she knew, Kent was the one trying to call her.

"Theora." Murray's face appeared onscreen, and Theora felt herself deflate from the letdown, before realizing that despite being covered up, she was still essentially naked in front of her boss. It took a second for her to get her bearings. "…Yes?"

"I'm down here at 23 with Edison, and I'd like it if you could join us as soon as you can," Murray informed Theora. "Apparently there's been a bit of a ratings slump, and the folks upstairs are worried about it."

Theora blinked. "After last night's broadcast?" Then Murray's first words caught up to her. "When did Edison arrive?"

"It looks as if he's been here ever since last night," Murray said.

"Why 'looks as if?'"

Murray hesitated. "Well, as far as I know he didn't go home last night, and he was asleep at your workstation when I came in this morning. He's being a bit… difficult."

Concern for Edison filled Theora's heart. There had only been one other time that Edison had slept at Network 23 all night and woken in a surly, driven mood, and that was after his old friend Paddy Ashton had been killed. She nodded briskly to Murray, a feat to achieve when half of her head was still buried in the pillow. "I'll be right there."

"Thank you," Murray said, and the viewphone disconnected. Theora pushed herself up immediately and gazed around the room, searching for any signs that Kent might have behind to explain why he had left so early, without telling Theora. His clothes were picked up from the floor, leaving Theora's in a pile at the foot of the bed. She could see no messages of any sort hanging around.

For a little while Theora was crushed by Kent's disappearance, but then she remembered that if Murray had called her and found her with Kent, the situation would have been extremely awkward. She could only thank God that it hadn't been Edison who had called her, because even without Kent's presence, he would have read into Theora's appearance meanings that he definitely didn't need to have on his mind at the moment. If there was ever a time to expose that she was in a relationship to Edison, that time was not now. She would have to wait until Bryce had recovered and Alex had been apprehended, if she and Kent stayed together that long. With thoughts of him on her mind, Theora put on the diamond necklace he had given her to accessorize her day's clothing and walked out the door without looking back.

Murray tried to greet Theora and explain the situation she had just walked into when she arrived at Network 23's headquarters, but Theora brushed past him and headed straight to her workstation, where she found Edison staring dully at the monitor before his eyes, even though the screen was black. He didn't look up as she came over and asked gently, "How are you?," but he did give her a scathing answer. "Despite the fact that one of our friends is in catatonic shock because an ex-criminal raped him, I'm absolutely _fine."_

_He certainly has a flair for stating the obvious, _sighed Theora in her mind. Beside her, Murray beckoned her over to speak in her ear in a low whisper. "He was talking about finding Alex Burgess and killing him when he came back last night. I tried to calm him down and make him see sense, but it was hard. I think you're going to find him tough to work with today."

_Thanks for telling me, _Theora thought- it was obvious to her that Edison was acting, in Murray's words, "difficult." She nodded and tried to get a grip on the situation. "So tell me- how can there be a ratings slump after we just had a broadcast last night? It seemed to go over very well."

Murray shrugged, not knowing what to say. "There was a surge in viewers after the broadcast, but it started to go down later in the night, and while it flatlined a bit during the usual nightly decline, the viewers just started slacking off even more come morning. I can't fathom why we're losing them on the heels of a successful broadcast."

"Maybe the subject matter of the last broadcast was too heavy-handed for most viewers?" Theora suggested.

"Or maybe," Edison spoke up from his seat at the monitor, "Cheviot and Co. are making too big a deal out of this."

Murray turned towards Edison. "If it's a big deal to them, it's automatically a big deal to us. The ratings-"

"Oh, fuck the ratings," Edison grumbled, and a shocked silence fell over the air. Theora couldn't believe what she had just heard. Edison had always been about toeing the line between respecting his network and disagreeing with its policies, but she had never heard him utter such a blasphemous statement before.

"Excuse me, Edison," Murray finally said in a warning tone. "What did you say?"

He raised firing eyes to Murray's face. "You heard me." He rose from his seat and stared harshly at Murray. "The ratings don't matter. Our reputation doesn't matter. What does matter is finding Alexander Burgess and bringing him to justice."

"Those are pretty strong words for a network employee," Murray murmured, stepping forward towards Edison. The intent was clear, but Edison just shrugged one shoulder. "You've got to admit it, Murray- a man has committed a terrible crime, and if we get hung up on worrying over our network's reputation we'll be distracted from finding him and prosecuting him for his crimes, which is for more important in the grand scheme of things than how many people are tuning in to our network. Everything must be shoved to the backburner until we find Alex Burges. The network will survive for another day."

"Reputation…" Theora murmured, and then the pieces fell into place all of a sudden. She drew everyone's attention by blurting, "What if the ratings slump occurred because someone found out and leaked the fact that we willingly let Alex Burgess under our roof, believing him to be a respected government worker? Hearing something like that might cause others to watch more reputable networks."

"But who would have found out?" Murray said, catching on immediately. A second later, one of the nearby employees had approached him and tapped his arm. "There's a call on the viewphone for you, sir."

"I'll be right there," Murray replied, ducking his head, and the employee departed. Murray gazed evenly at Theora and Edison before saying, "As long as you keep the ratings in mind and go after Alex Burgess without the intent of killing him, I'm fine with whatever you do." He then followed the employee to the viewphone. Theora bit the inside of her cheek as Edison's cool eyes turned onto her for the first time that day.

"You weren't really thinking of killing him, were you?" she said by way of greeting. Edison hastily shook his head, his brown eyes sparking. "Of course not. That's someone else's job to do, not mine." He moved aside so that Theora could take a seat in front of her monitor at last.

"So you think Alex deserves the death penalty?" To even use that phrase was strange. The death penalty hadn't been prescribed for years and years, only in the most extreme cases. Of course, hardly any crimes in the city had been as bad as the ones that the teenage gang had committed recently, thanks to the power of network TV.

Edison shook his head firmly and moved closer to Theora's seat, watching as she roused her monitor from its slumber. "I don't think his penalty should go that far, but he definitely deserves to be in prison for life. There's going to be hell to pay once the Metrocops find him."

Theora nodded absently, her mind already on other things. Without a second thought, she found herself typing "Ludovico" into the search bar for the city files. Edison noticed and peered down at her. "I thought you said yesterday you didn't find any relevant results."

Theora only shrugged and waited for her search to load. "I have a feeling…" Once the results appeared, she narrowed the search down to "Ludovico treatment" and added a few more key words- "criminals," "Alexander Burgess." Presently a file popped up, which she opened and read silently to herself, hardly daring to hope that this might be it.

_The Ludovico Experiment, commonly referred to as the Ludovico Treatment or Ludovico Technique, was a test developed to "cure" convicted criminals of their evil habits by triggering a Pavlovian response to violent films. Originally created to relieve overcrowding in London's State Jail, the treatment consisted of strapping a person down to a chair, pulling back his or her eyelids (and administering eye droplets when needed throughout the test), and playing explicitly graphic films, with such subject matter as rape, physical abuse, and disrespect for public property. Before showing the subject these films, he or she would be given a shot of (drug), which would cause the subject to feel physically ill as he or she watched. Repeated viewings of this sort caused the effects of the drug to remain whenever the subject thought about violence, thus rendering him or her incapable of performing violent acts. Now harmless, the subject would be released from the State Jail to lead a normal life. _

_The experiment was only performed once, on Gramodisc Archivist Alexander Burgess. Due to a negative reaction, the Ludovico treatment has been discontinued._

Theora gazed up to find that Edison was staring at her. They locked eyes for a long moment before Theora said, "If you're looking to give Alex hell, I think I know where you can start."

Just then Murray arrived at the scene, a flustered expression on his face. He joined Theora and Edison, and they drew close to him to hear what he had to say.

"It looks like we've got good news and bad news, team," Murray said, patting his pockets. "The bad news is that the Metrocops got an order from their superiors to call off the search for Alex Burgess."

"What?!" Edison blurted, at once filled with rage. "But who would do that? I told an audience of thousands last night to search for him!"

"The chief of the Metrocops wouldn't tell me who had given them the order," Murray said, fixing a hard stare at Edison. "All I know is that the search is off for now, and there's nothing we can do about it."

"And the good news?" Theora said quietly. Murray turned his eyes onto her, his face lightening a bit for the first time since Bryce had been found incapacitated in his studio. "The good news is that the med center called. They informed me that Bryce is lucid and speaking, although he appears to be disoriented and is still in some pain. His parents have been notified, but the doctor also said that you're free to visit him, if you want." He nodded in Edison's direction, but Edison shook his head.

"I think it would be best to respect their privacy for now. But you're right, Murray- that's great news." His eyes flashed, not with angry energy, but with joy that Bryce had snapped out of his catatonic state so quickly. His lips, while not entirely turning up into a smile, curled a bit.

"I hope Bryce is all right, dealing with what he's been through," Theora murmured gently. Personally she was surprised to hear that he had recovered so quickly, albeit in a "disoriented" state. "He's so sheltered… I wouldn't be surprised if he hadn't known what sex was."

Murray looked over at her. "You can visit him, if you want."

"And leave my post?" Theora said, indicating her seat at the monitor. Murray shrugged. "I would go down to see him myself, but you know how I feel about hospitals."

"Just make sure not to linger too long," Edison instructed Theora. "I'm definitely going to need you back here in a while. Find out what the situation is down at the med center and let me know what's going on as soon as you get back."

Theora laughed. "So we're talking role reversal here? You'll act as my controller while I gather information?"

"Yes," Edison said seriously, and then laughed too and winked. "Just don't intrude on the Lynches' privacy."

"You don't have to tell me," Theora sighed, already making for the door. "The broadcast last night proved that point."

Edison didn't give any more information for Theora to keep in mind, and she breezed out the door, anticipation building inside of her. She was both nervously apprehensive and thrillingly excited at the thought of meeting Bryce again.

But meeting Bryce again didn't happen right away. As soon as Theora checked into the med center and explained who she was there to see, she had to endure a few minutes of waiting outside of Bryce's room for his parents to leave. She stared at the foreboding door before her as she waited- it was a long time since she had been anywhere on her own during working hours. It was good to get a chance to stretch her legs, but she felt too exposed not sitting behind the monstrous monitor. For a moment Theora wondered why Edison hadn't joined her on this excursion. Maybe he had been afraid that the sight of his face would have put the Lynches on their guards.

As Theora waited, she saw a nurse approach the closed door and crack it open, calling, "Mr. and Mrs. Lynch?" Presently Bryce's parents peeped out through the crack in the door, Bryce's mother wearing a distressed expression and Bryce's father looking distrusting.

"There's a call on the viewphone for you," the nurse explained. "Or rather for Bryce, but I don't think he's in a state to answer. If you'll just come this way…"

After the Lynches had quickly said goodbye to the unseen Bryce and had left the room, Theora came forward and made for the nurse. "Excuse me, ma'am- may I visit Bryce now?"

"Who are you?" Mr. Lynch growled, his brow furrowing as he studied Theora, trying to decide whether or not she was a reporter. Theora ran her fingers through her hair self-consciously as she answered. "My name is Theora Jones, and I've worked closely with Bryce in the past… I'm a friend of his," she stated quickly before Mr. Lynch could turn away in disgust. "I just wanted to see how he's doing."

"Bryce has never mentioned you to us before," Mr. Lynch said, his eyes narrowing. Theora squared her shoulders and didn't reply, remembering how Bryce had once mentioned that he had rarely spoken to his parents ever since he got the job at Network 23. "I assure you, my intentions are not to exploit him. I'm just concerned about him, as you are."

"You may go in, Miss Jones," the nurse jumped in, eager to prevent an argument from coming on. "Come on now, Mr. Lynch, surely you don't want to keep your caller waiting?"

"Thank you," Theora murmured, and rushed to open the door as a means of escaping Mr. Lynch's murderous eyes. She closed the door behind her and let the breath in her cheeks out in a _whoosh, _staring at the flesh and blood Bryce sitting up in his bed before her. It was the first time in a long time that she had seen him in person, and she found her heart swelling with warmth and relief as he stared at her with a confused expression on his face.

"Hello," Bryce greeted Theora uncertainly, squinting at her in order to see her better. "Who's here? I'm sorry, I- I can't see you very well without glasses."

"Bryce," Theora whispered, and dashed up to his side. "Bryce, it's Theora. Are you all right? How are you feeling?"

Bryce frowned upon hearing Theora's name, and shrugged at her query. "I… I'm not sure how I'm feeling. Are you one of the nurses here? Can you tell me what's happened to me and why I'm here? No one else will, not even my parents. They said I've been in some sort of accident, but they won't explain what happened."

Theora blinked in surprise, and stepped back to get a close look at Bryce's face. The Band-Aids were still stuck awkwardly to his cheeks and forehead, although they looked as if they had been swapped for fresh ones. "No, Bryce, I'm not a nurse. It's me, Theora, from Network 23. You remember, don't you? I'm Edison's controller."

"Network 23?" Bryce repeated, as if he had never heard the name before. "I'm sorry, I don't watch the news very often. Are you here to interview me?"

"…No, no," Theora mumbled faintly, realization beginning to dawn in her. "I… I just came to see if you were okay." She stood in place, unsure of whether she should go call the nurse back in or if she should stay by Bryce's side. God knew he needed someone now more than ever.

"Oh." Confusion reigned on Bryce's face, but he managed to give a shaky smile. "Well, that's nice of you."

Theora nodded and then began to subtly make her way to the door. "I'm sorry I can't tell you what happened to you-" _although I know better than anyone else- _"but I hope you find out soon." She inched her fingers towards the doorknob. "I'm going to talk to the nurse, all right?"

"All right," Bryce said, settling back down in his bed. "It was nice to meet you, Theora."

Theora nodded and then, as calmly as she could, fled the room. She closed the door behind her and took a few deep breaths through her nose, trying to collect her scattered nerves. What had happened to Bryce's memory? As much as she didn't want to believe it, a few long-dead memories of her time spent in homeless shelters as a child began to crawl back to her, and she fought the urge inside of her to recognize Bryce's symptoms. This was a completely different situation than it had been back then…

"Nurse!" Theora cried in a shrill voice, startling even her as the nurse that had guided the Lynches to the viewphone returned from her journey. The nurse came over, saying "Yes?," and Theora felt the words breathlessly leave her mouth. "What's wrong with the patient in this room? He didn't recognize me, even though he's met me several times before, and he didn't seem to remember that he works for Network 23."

The nurse hesitated. "I'm sorry, but I can't answer that question. You'll have to talk to the doctor." She bustled off, and Theora was left standing by her lonesome, utterly confused by everything that was going on. After a few seconds she whirled off and headed down the hall in the direction that the nurse had just come from. She didn't have to go very far before finding the Lynches arguing with someone on the viewphone, and the doctor standing by chatting to another nurse. Theora approached her and caught the doctor's attention. "Excuse me, ma'am," she said, quietly so that Bryce's parents wouldn't be distracted from their call. "Can you please tell me what's wrong with the patient Bryce Lynch?" She repeated the ailments that she had noticed in him to the doctor, who listened patiently before replying, shaking her head sadly as she spoke.

"It appears that the stress and trauma that Bryce has been through following his attack has been too much for him. We believe he has regressed, reverting mentally back to a time in his life when he wasn't under so much pressure. It is unclear as of this moment when he's going to snap out of it."

Theora's heart skipped a beat and then sunk like a stone as she heard the doctor's diagnosis. _Poor Bryce… _She thanked the doctor hastily and walked away, her mind filling with memories from the past. So she had recognized the symptoms after all… Bryce's condition brought to mind some of the more traumatized, scarred children in the shelters she had lived in, forgetting the names of the people around them or even forgetting how to speak. They had become innocent once more, children whose only ability was to sit and watch TV in a perfectly content daze. Theora hadn't realized it at the time, being more concerned for her friends' welfare than concerning herself with what was to become of them, but there was usually nothing that could be done for these children. They usually ended up living in the shelter until their early deaths.

With a shudder, Theora emerged from her dark reminiscing just in time to hear Mr. Lynch declare, "We are taking Bryce home and that's final!" Hesitantly curious, she peered over at the viewphone- and was shocked to find that she could make out Murray's face speaking to the Lynches on the other end.

"Murray?" Theora blurted, rushing forward towards the viewphone. The Lynches were startled by her sudden appearance, and let her pass. Theora halted in front of the viewphone, and Murray stared back at her, equally shocked. "Th-"

"What's going on here?" Theora demanded to know, glancing from face to virtual face. Mr. Lynch was the first to speak, his tone scalding. "This Murray fellow here has called us to say that Bryce's employer wants him to come back to work right away. But there's no way he can work in his condition!"

"I'm sorry," Murray stated for what sounded like the hundredth time. "I don't like it any more than you do, but Cheviot's orders are orders that must be obeyed."

"Has this Cheviot come down to see Bryce at all?" Mr. Lynch sneered. "I'm sure he would agree with us if he knew what a state Bryce is in. He has go to home with us. It's the only way he can recover."

"Why does Cheviot want Bryce immediately?" Theora asked Murray, a cold sensation settling in her gut. Mr. Lynch was exactly right- there was no way that Bryce could work in his regressed condition. "Can't he just hire a volunteer from ACS?"

"Bryce, as we all know, is at the top of his game," Murray explained. "And the sudden ratings slump has made Cheviot fearful of losing any more employees. He wants his entire staff to work on solving the problem. Don't ask me why he needs the head of technology to solve a matter of ratings- if it was my decision Bryce wouldn't be working at all after what's happened."

Theora didn't say anything, only mulling over the pieces of the puzzle in her mind. She was sure that part of the reason Cheviot wanted Bryce back so soon was so that he could downplay what had happened to him and state that Bryce was healed and well in hopes of attracting the viewers that had given up on 23 the night before. She glanced at the Lynches to see if they had anything more to say, and Bryce's mother spoke up.

"I don't care how much power Cheviot has," she said in a quavering voice. "I don't care how much he needs Bryce. We haven't seen our son for several years, and now that he's mentally incapable of performing his duties to the network it's only fair that we should take him home. It's the only way that he'll be able to recuperate…" But she glanced about herself nervously, and Theora understood that she was worried that Bryce might not ever recover. It was possible that he could lose his job, which would be a hard blow for the family.

"Well, I'm sorry, Mrs. Lynch, but I have to do what my superiors tell me to," Murray said, obviously loathing himself for saying the words. "As soon as Bryce is discharged from the med center-"

"I'll take him," Theora spoke up, and all eyes, even Murray's, snapped onto her.

"What are you talking about?" Mr. Lynch said, bemused.

"I…" Theora floundered for a second, as the decision had been a split decision, but as soon as she had said the words she knew they were right. "I said I'll take Bryce home with me if that's all right with you. I'm familiar with his condition and I think I know how to help him."

"But we don't even know who you are," Mrs. Lynch said with a touch of stress in her voice.

"But," Murray said, "you have to admit it's a good mediation."

There was a tense silence, and then Mr. Lynch threw his hands in the air. "All right. All right, all right. Miss, er…"

"Jones, but you can call me Theora," Theora said.

"Theora." Mr. Lynch relaxed the slightest bit. "If you can help Bryce, I'll entrust you with him. Just promise me you won't resort to any extreme methods."

Theora shook her head violently. "I would never do anything to harm your son. He's been a good friend to me and to Edison Carter. I promise that I'll do everything within boundaries that I can to bring him back to himself, and I'll make sure he gets to see you once he's healed." There was no way she could promise that Bryce would get to go home with his parents. More than likely Cheviot would want him back as soon as he'd made a full recovery.

"So this is fine with everyone?" Murray spoke up from the viewphone, and everyone's eyes returned to his face. "Do you have the proper accommodations, Theora?"

"Yes," Theora replied, nodding her head. She would have to tone it down a bit with Kent's visits, but it didn't hurt her to think of not seeing him for a bit- Bryce's health had become more important in her mind.

"I'm sure we can make arrangements for the doctor to send Bryce your way as soon as it's possible for him to leave the hospital," Mrs. Lynch informed Theora, turning towards her with stress etched across her face. "It means so much to me, and to Jacob here, that you're offering to do this for us, and for Bryce. I can't express how grateful I am."

"Oh, it's nothing," Theora replied automatically, hoping that the expression on her face conveyed the warmth that she felt inside towards Bryce's mother. "Like I said, I've had some experience with… cases like these."

Murray sighed on the viewphone behind her, an expression of relief that the situation had been figured out more than an expression of irritation. "It's all settled, then. I'll call Cheviot and tell him that you're taking Bryce home with you; he'll have to sort out the ratings battle himself. Bryce needs the time to recover."

"And will you inform Edison as soon as possible?" Theora said. Murray surprised her by smiling with humor, and just barely within earshot she heard the unmistakable tones of Edison's own laughter.

"He's right in the room with me," Murray said. "There's no need for me to repeat the information to him later." Though he didn't say it out loud, for obvious reasons, Theora got the feeling that Edison wasn't making an appearance at the viewphone because he didn't want to tick off the Lynches again, who most likely still felt rubbed the wrong way in relation to Edison.

"Thank you," Theora said, and then backed away, nodding to the Lynches. "And thank you for letting your son stay with me." They exchanged parting words and then Theora turned and took off back down the corridor, her mind spinning. She paused as she passed Bryce's room, but then decided against entering it, not sure if she would be able to handle seeing Bryce in his condition again. It was best to save that for later, when Bryce would arrive at her apartment. She would have all the time in the world then to coax him out of his current state.

"But why can't I just come over? I won't even stay the night…"

Theora absently bit her lower lip as she watched Kent's face change from eager to see her to judgmental in the blink of an eye. It was a miracle that she had gotten Murray to let her use the viewphone in his office, and that was only because she had lied and told him that she was calling someone to clean her apartment in preparation for Bryce's stay. That was work-related. Kent wasn't. And yet Theora felt the need to warn him immediately that there would be a guest arriving at Theora's apartment, possibly even by nightfall, who was shell-shocked and in need of Theora's care. She didn't see why he had to make this difficult, and resisted the urge to glance over her shoulder before explaining again why he couldn't show up at her house at all.

"Kent, I told you already that I don't think it's a good idea for Bryce to be around men that he doesn't know right now. It's true that he's in a regressed state, but seeing you or any other man might set off some kind of trigger, which is what I'm trying to avoid. I want to be able to break him out of his trance gently, not all of a sudden, which could prove traumatic."

"But won't you need me at all?" Kent asked, a note of desperation appearing in his voice. "I mean… God, I feel odd discussing this over the phone, but… Theora, last night was great, and it could have been better under more natural circumstances. After last night, I can't just spend the nights alone at my crummy apartment. I have to see you more often."

_Then why did you leave me so early?, _Theora thought, but she didn't bring it up. "I'm sorry, Kent. Under natural circumstances, I would love to see you, but it won't work out when I have Bryce staying with me. I'm afraid you're going to have to get used to the fact that my work doesn't allow many chances for personal meetings."

Kent stared through the screen at her, and for a moment Theora thought that he might actually declare the relationship as over. It wouldn't be the first time that someone had left her standing in the dust after taking what he wanted from her. But instead of hardening, Kent let out a wistful sigh and said, "I understand, but it doesn't make me want you any less."

"You're just going to have to deal with it," Theora said, already itching for the conversation to end- Murray might get suspicious if her conversation with the "cleaner's" ran overtime, although she doubted he would go far enough as to retrace the call. "I have to go now, Kent. I'm sorry. I love you."

Kent's eyes were still dissatisfied, but he only said "I love you too, Theora," and then disconnected the viewphone. Theora stood up and left the office, returning to her spot by the monitor where Edison was waiting. He tried to bounce a joke off of her- "My, you must be very persnickety when it comes to housecleaning-" but gave up in confusion when he saw how distracted she was. Theora refused to look at Edison as she resumed her position at the monitor and asked him what he planned on doing that day. She was afraid that raising her eyes to meet his might make her lie become evident. Memories from the nightmarish day before, when Edison had almost kissed her, swarmed her mind, and she tried to shut them out. Edison meant nothing to her. He was the reporter that Theora had to control, and that was all.

It turned out that Edison had an exhaustive day ahead of him in mind, and had to cram all of his activities into a few hours, because Theora's trip to the med center had pushed back some of the time that he would usually use to go out in the field. For a few blissful hours, Theora submerged herself in watching the grisly work of a reporter doing his duty to the law. Edison went down to the Metrocops first and asked who had sent the orders to call off the investigation into Alex's whereabouts, only to find that this was classified information that he couldn't get around, no matter how many questions he asked. The rest of the time was spent going rogue, scouting the city and the Fringes and asking passersby if they had heard from Alex Burgess or seen him recently. Many of the people that Edison stopped to chat with were amicable and genuinely interested in helping, which lifted Theora's spirits, but there was an alarming few who spat when Edison came there way and launched into diatribes against Network 23. "That feature you did last night was just wrong!" one exclaimed as Edison passed him. "I've never seen anything more exploitative!"

"He's got to be kidding me," Edison muttered to Theora, who made an _mm _sound in sympathy. "I guess now we know why Network 23 is getting low ratings today." _Although I don't know why they would care so much, looking at the tripe that gets broadcast on rival channels._

Theora was a bit concerned as Edison headed into the Fringes, as the environment was a rough one that was bound to be Alex Burgess's type. She almost considered warning Edison to be careful before remembering that he usually got out of scrapes all right. The only times she had been genuinely concerned for his welfare had been when he tried Neurostim for the first time, and during that first outing together, when he had been knocked off of a motorcycle and taken to the nearest body bank. Out in the Fringes, Theora watched as Edison attempted to talk to person after person, only for each person to either flip him off or refuse to answer. "You knew it wasn't going to be easy around here," she sighed after this had gone on for a bit.

"Hey, I wasn't expecting much," Edison said, a razor tone below his voice. "But I'm sure that if Alex Burgess is still in this city, he's hiding somewhere out here."

Even on the receiving end, the day produced exhausting work, and Theora was glad when Edison finally got called back to Network 23. While she waited for his return, she pored over what little information he had uncovered with Murray, and then was unexpectedly sent to the viewphone for a call from the med center.

"Yes?" Theora said as soon as she sat down, recognizing the doctor on screen. The doctor nodded in greeting. "If you're ready for him, Bryce is ready for you tonight. His injuries are patched up and he's eager to go home, although the memory lapse is disconcerting." Theora's eyes implored the doctor to go on, and wariness flickered in her expression. "Before we send Bryce over, I'd like to know if you're sure you can take care of him. Any wrong move could shatter him and cause him to retreat further into himself."

"I'm not going to hurt him," Theora swore. "I'll try my best to bring him back to himself with as little trauma as possible." _And then, _she thought, _he'll be ready to testify against Alex Burgess once we find him. _Though her motives were to help Bryce only, she couldn't help but think that there were likely several people who were anxious for Bryce to recover in order for him to explain his side of what had happened.

The doctor was nodding on the phone. "Well, tonight he's all yours. If you'll tell me your address, we'll make sure to deliver Bryce to your place in a van."

Theora nodded. "All right. And what are you going to tell him about his new lodgings?"

"The nurse will explain that he's going home with the woman he met today in order to rest and recuperate," the doctor said. "The environment is too stressful at home."

Once again, Theora gave a nod. "Thank you. I'll be sure to have my place ready in time."

"Thank _you," _the doctor said, and disconnected the line. Theora emerged from her viewphone conversation with a more positive outlook, if not completely content. The road to recovery for Bryce would likely be a dark one, and while Theora wasn't looking forward to the night ahead, she was at least pleased that the doctor at the med center trusted her enough to take care of their special patient.

"What did she say?" was Edison's greeting as Theora returned to her workspace, Murray hovering over Edison's shoulder. She blinked, and then laughed at him. "When did you get here?"

"About a minute ago," Edison replied, moving towards Theora. "I was told by Murray that the medcen contacted you."

"They did," Theora confirmed, "and they're going to let Bryce stay at my apartment tonight as per my request." She shifted past him to get to her monitor and begin to pack up her personal items. "It's been a dismal day on the reporting front, but at least Bryce is getting the care he needs."

"The sooner he recovers, the better," Murray agreed. "Cheviot will be pacified, and we can hear his version of events." Theora didn't allow her reaction to show on her face, but she gave an exhaustive sigh on the inside. So Murray was one of the sure to be many who was itching to hear Bryce's tale in his own words. She wondered if he truly cared for Bryce after all.

"How do you know what to do for him, Theora?" Edison asked, moving a bit closer to her so that he could hear her better. The motion didn't feel odd to Theora- it felt perfectly natural for his shoulder to be so close to hers that she could feel his warmth. Instead of answering the question straight forward, though, she shrugged and turned her head away. "It's a condition I recognized from one of the shelters I lived in when I was a girl." There would be no more dwelling on that subject, at least not until later that night. Edison, sensing that Theora didn't want to discuss her personal life, wisely chose not to pursue that topic. "Is it all right with you if I… pop by later tonight?" he asked, gazing at her until she was forced to return the glance. "I… I want to help with Bryce's recovery in any way that I can."

Theora, reading Edison's expression in his large brown eyes, could tell exactly why he wanted to see Bryce that night- he wanted to apologize properly for leading Alex straight to Bryce's lab. She nodded stiffly in response to his question and then looked away again. "I'd appreciate your help in any way possible."

In a little while, the three workers parted ways, and Theora was the first to leave Network 23's headquarters, her mind already focused on how she was going to heal Bryce. Truth be told, it hadn't been all that easy when she had tried to help her regressed friends. The comfort usually consisted of hugging them and trying to remind them who they were, with varying degrees of success. No one had ever been truly healed by Theora's love and care.

_But, _she thought, _it's worth a shot on Bryce. He's got to come back to himself, for the sake of his job and, more importantly, his family. _The family that she had never had.

Back at her apartment, Theora had approximately thirty minutes to get ready for Bryce's arrival, which was also a fair amount of time to get the light cleaning that she had lied to Murray about done. She straightened the sheets on her bed, which were still somewhat rumpled from the night before, and arranged each of the pillows just so. After wiping down the tabletop where she took her meals, vacuuming the rug, and brewing a fresh mug of tea, Theora sat down to wait for the inevitable.

And then Kent walked right through the door.

Theora was out of her seat in a flash, slamming the teacup in her hand down hard on the table. "Kent! What do you think you're doing here?"

"You couldn't get rid of me that easily," Kent sang cheerfully, stepping inside and closing the door behind him. "I'm sorry, Theora, but I came here because I had to see you tonight." He came forward, his body warm and inviting, and for just a second Theora's mind wandered with temptation and she wondered if it would be possible to slip in a quick one before Bryce arrived- until the situation dawned on her. She met Kent and, instead of kissing him back as he angled his head, tried unsuccessfully to push him back towards the door. "You need to leave, Kent. Bryce Lynch is coming over here in just a few minutes…"

"What?" Kent sulked, backing away and pushing his lower lip out in a mock-pout. "You're not even going to let me stay for a cuppa? I thought you'd be pleased to see me."

"I-" Theora closed her eyes and took in a deep breath before expelling it with a _whoosh. _"Under normal circumstances, I would be, Kent. But… I'm sorry, but I just can't deal with this tonight."

Kent looked as if he were about to say more, or to move forward and clasp Theora around the waist, but with a _bzzz _at the door both of their respective attentions were diverted. Theora whirled towards the door and went immediately over to check the vidscreen next to it to see who was here. The faces of one of the med center's nurses and Bryce Lynch, wearing a new pair of glasses and a blank expression, stared expectantly back at her.

"Get back," Theora murmured to Kent, and then opened the door wide without checking to see that he had followed her instruction. A smile plastered itself across her face as she saw Bryce, who beamed back without recognition.

"Good evening," the nurse greeted Theora, smiling warmly, and Theora repeated the phrase. "This is the place you're going to stay the night, Bryce."

"All right," he said, gazing about his surroundings with the wide, naïve eyes of someone younger than sixteen. Theora felt a pang go through her heart, but she didn't let her smile waver. "It's lovely to have you here tonight. Come on in!" As she gestured to let Bryce through the door, Theora took a small sweep of the main room with her eyes. Kent wasn't anywhere in sight, but presumably he had gone back to the kitchen area and was waiting for more instructions from Theora. She turned back to the nurse, thanked her for bringing Bryce over, and then closed the door and turned back to observe her guest's reactions.

Bryce had set his suitcase on the floor- evidently one that his parents had packed for him- and was now drinking in everything laid out before him, clearly in wonderment. "Wow…" he murmured below his breath, his eyes widening as he caught sight of the car that Theora kept parked beside her bed, a relic of the past. When he turned and caught Theora watching him intently, he gave a rueful smile. "I'm sorry. I've just never been to this part of the city before!"

_You _live _here, _Theora's mind screamed, but she held her tongue and instead moved ever so slowly, so as not to alert Bryce as to what she was doing, towards the kitchen area. She had to get to Kent before Bryce noticed him…

"Wow!" Bryce exclaimed again, heading straight for Theora's bed, and Theora breathed a small sigh of relief. "This bed is huge!" He rushed towards it, before glancing guiltily back at Theora. "Do you mind if I-"

"Of course you can sit down," Theora laughed, and then, as soon as Bryce's back was to her, darted into the kitchen area, where Kent was hovering in a corner, looking concerned. He caught her arms as soon as she came close enough. "Theora-" But Theora wouldn't allow him to hold her, and began to tug him towards the door, hissing all the while, "Make sure that Bryce doesn't see you…"

"Hm?" Bryce said, turning around from his seat on the bed. Theora, for all her haste, couldn't get Kent out the door quickly enough. They froze, and Kent offered Bryce a sheepish smile. Bryce did not return it, staring blankly at Kent in return.

"This is my boyfriend, Kent," Theora explained in as cheery tones as she could muster. "He's just leaving now." She tugged on Kent's arm, and he got the hint and moved towards the door. "It's nice to meet you, Bryce. Pity I have to go now." He laughed, but Bryce said nothing, continuing to stare fixated at Kent. Theora sucked in a deep breath and backed away as Kent opened the door and left.

"I-" At once a change had fallen over Bryce. His mouth moved laxly, but he couldn't seem to find the words to fit in it. He closed his mouth and blinked slowly.

"It's all right," Theora murmured, crossing the floor to sit down on the bed beside Bryce. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you there would be a visitor. It's just us now, though."

"Just us…" Bryce repeated without looking at Theora, and then clenched his hands together in his lap. Theora snuck a peek and noticed that his hands were shaking. His face had gone pale as he tried desperately to distract himself with the first sight that his eyes landed on…

The TV flickered suddenly, and Theora burst from her seat in a panic without even realizing what she was doing. Her eyes locked onto the screen, and a startled gasp rose in her throat. Her mind was immediately sent into a string of prayer- _Oh God please don't let it break down don't let there be anything wrong-_

The image went static for a second, and Theora nearly had a heart attack. On the bed, the already-tense Bryce cringed and then peeped fearfully out from beneath his glasses, whispering meekly, "Theora?"

"Yes, Bryce?" Theora replied, her eyes on the TV but her mind turning back to her charge.

"I- I think I can fix that, if you want…"

Theora contemplated for a few seconds on whether it was worth letting a mentally-regressed Bryce have a look at her TV set, but then the image flickered again and the desperation inside of her grew too much to bear. She nodded to Bryce. "Go ahead." He removed himself from his seat on Theora's comfortable bed and slunk around to the TV, where he immediately began to work at studying the TV's parts. Theora took a seat on her bed and watched Bryce with her heart in her throat. At one point it seemed as if the TV would do the unthinkable and turn off (and if that came to be, Theora would have to pack her bags and leave for prison immediately), but suddenly it flickered back to the life, the picture and audio as clear as ever before. Theora released a deep sigh and found room inside herself to smile rewardingly at Bryce as he made his way back to the bed. "Where did you learn to fix a TV like that?"

Bryce frowned, and avoided Theora's glance as he answered. "I just learned it… about a week ago, I think. My family's always having problems with their set at home, and they need me to help keep it running…" He trailed off and looked down at his feet, which hung off the edge of the bed. Theora guessed from his expression that he was trying to recall memories that weren't real.

"Bryce," she said gently, leaning towards him. "How old are you?"

"Nine," he replied, looking up at last. "Why?"

Theora's heart sunk like a stone to hear the false age, but she didn't let Bryce catch on to her feelings. "I was just wondering."

A minute later Theora had gotten up and gone to the kitchen area of her apartment, where a warm mug of tea remained sitting on the tabletop. She took the mug in both hands and inhaled its unique scent. "Would you like anything to eat, Bryce? I can make you some tea if you want."

"No thanks," he said nonchalantly. "I had dinner at the medcen. Actually I'm kind of sleepy right now." He gazed hopefully at the bed, and Theora couldn't help but indulge him. "Well, get changed and feel free to sleep in my bed. I'll sleep on the sofa."

Bryce's eyes lit up. "You'll really let me sleep in your bed? Thank you, Theora!" He leapt from his seat and hurried to the spot on the floor where he had discarded his suitcase, a sudden bundle of motion. Theora directed Bryce to the small bathroom, which he stepped inside of before reacting as if a snake had bit him and pulling back sharply.

"What's wrong?" Theora asked immediately. Bryce paused a second before giving Theora a shrug, obviously trying to stay cool. "I… well, maybe I'll just sleep in my clothes," he said, setting the suitcase back down and returning to Theora's luxurious bed. She came over, a bit confused, to help him with arranging the bedsheets.

"Do you need your bandages changed?" Theora asked, looking closely at Bryce's face. The Band-Aids didn't appear to be bloody, but that could be that Bryce's cuts had healed into scars. Once again, Bryce paused before answering, and it lasted much longer than the first time. "What bandages?"

"The ones on your face…" Theora said, touching her own cheeks unconsciously. Bryce blinked before shaking his head violently. "I don't have any bandages. What are you talking about?"

_What are you talking about… _Theora's mouth went dry, but she forced herself to present a loving smile to Bryce. "I'm sorry, I must have been mistaken. Good night." She took Bryce's glasses from him as he removed them and then dimmed the lights, stepping back into the comfort of the kitchen area to observe Bryce as he slept. Her mind raced with ways to help Bryce get back to his old self again. How could he possibly deal with what had happened? How could this possibly go on? Listening to Bryce's steady breathing, Theora began to wish that Edison was with her.

In his sleep, Bryce's body relaxed, but his mind tossed and turned, caught in the grip of a nightmare. _He stood over Bryce, triumphant and sneering. "You shall be wounded and ravaged by the great Alexander DeLarge, oh my malenky brother." The face was one that Bryce had seen before and could not remember, but it was also Kent's face, malicious and cold. Suddenly there was pain… pain erupting over his entire body… and he screamed for it to stop, for the man to stop hurting him, but he only yelled vile words in another language… And then cold fingers grabbed his shoulders and dragged him in front of a mirror, where he kept his eyes shut as tight as he could make them, but could still see through his eyelids the ruins of what he had become. His face was jagged with fresh wounds, cuts that bled angrily and oozed redness down his neck. Unable to look away, he was in a stupor as the mirror smashed and pieces of glass flew everywhere, blinding him…_

"AHHHH! HELP! _AHHHH!"_

Quick as a flash, Theora was at Bryce's bedside, her reverie over tea forgotten. She plunked herself down on the bed and pulled Bryce into a sitting position, wrapping her arms around him for comfort. This was the part that she was familiar with. "Bryce! Bryce, wake up. Wake up, Bryce, it's only a bad dream…" He thrashed in her grip, and Theora had to pull him away, taking his loose hands and rubbing them. "It's okay… you're here with me… it's okay…" Finally Bryce's eyes opened, and from one glance Theora knew that he was back to normal, although very shaken.

"Theora?" The name was no longer a meaningless sound in his mouth. "Is that you? Where- where am I?"

"You're safe, Bryce," Theora told him, patting his trembling hands gently. "You're at my apartment. Something very bad has happened to you…"

"Oh." His fingers flew up to his face, stroking his cheeks, feeling for the first time the marks that the broken glass had made. "Theora, I- I don't remember…"

"Ssh," Theora soothed, reaching out to pull Bryce into an embrace again. She tried to present as non-threatening an image as she could. "It's all right. You don't have to talk about it."

"But I do!" Bryce cried, his voice suddenly rising with hysteria. "I know what happened! There was- there was a man…"

He suddenly buried his face in Theora's shoulder, unable to go on. Theora began to calmly rub Bryce's back, swaying back and forth at the same time.

"I- I've never felt like this before," Bryce murmured, his voice choked. He sounded both emotional and puzzled, as if one side of his brain, the analytical side that Theora had missed, was trying to figure out why he felt the way he did. "My eyes are stinging- my throat's closing up-"

"Let it out, Bryce," Theora whispered in his ear. "It's okay to cry. It's perfectly natural in this situation." And so she held Bryce as he sobbed, saying nothing, waiting only until he was spent from the tears and had calmed down a bit.

"What did he do to me?" Bryce whispered, his voice rough. "And why?"

Theora shook her head, knowing Bryce would feel the motion against his shoulder. "I can't explain it to you. All you need to know is that there are very evil people living in this world, and we're trying our best to get rid of this one."

"We?" Bryce said. "You and Edison and Murray?"

"Yes." Theora hesitated, not knowing if it was appropriate contact after what had happened to Bryce, before deciding to press her lips gently to Bryce's forehead. He stiffened, and she instantly pulled away.

"I'm so sorry."

They stayed locked in embrace for several more minutes, Theora thinking of nothing at all as she rocked Bryce in her arms, before Bryce said, "Can you sing something?"

Surprised, and thinking that she must have misunderstood, Theora asked, "Do you want me to turn the TV to a muvid channel?"

"No," Bryce said. "I want to hear you sing."

"Okay…" Theora racked her brains for a song that she knew most of the words to. Such things were harder to come by these days, when every song played on top forty TV stations usually had either the simplest lyrics, or were lengthy synth instrumentals that bounced from dark to light and back again. What were songs that she had heard in her youth, before she became acquainted with muvids? They had to have taught her at least a few in the shelter… Finally the right song came to her, along with memories of a sports team winning something on TV, and she began to sing softly to Bryce. "When you walk through the storm, hold your head up high, and don't be afraid of the dark…"

Bryce seemed to still beneath Theora's touch, breathing raggedly as he listened to her sing the most uplifting song she knew. "At the end of the storm is a golden sky, and the sweet silver song of the lark…"

Feeling the tension drain out of Bryce's body as he listened, Theora was encouraged to let her voice soar on the chorus. "Walk on, through the wind. Walk on, through the rain. Though your dreams be tossed and blown…"

A sigh escaped Bryce's lips, his eyes falling shut. Theora gently laid him back down amongst the bedsheets and plethora of pillows.

"Walk on, walk on, with hope in your heart, and you'll never walk alone." She took Bryce's hand and gave it a squeeze before silently retreating back to the kitchen area to put away her cup and saucer.

It was then that the door gave out a _bzzz, _and Theora anxiously checked to make sure that Bryce hadn't been woken up before going to see who was calling on her. Before looking at the screen, she crossed her fingers behind her back and hoped that it wasn't Kent, coming back for more refusal. But instead of seeing her boyfriend, she found that Edison was the one standing outside of her door. Hurriedly she opened the door and let him in.

"How's Bryce?" was the first thing Edison asked. Theora gestured to her bed, and put a finger to her lips to warn Edison to keep quiet. "I've made the breakthrough. He's asleep now, but he remembers who he is and what has happened to him. Keep your voice down- I don't want to wake him."

Edison nodded as he removed his coat. "Where should I put this?"

"Just hang it on the doorknob," Theora suggested, walking across the room to reach a closet. She didn't care what Edison saw as she opened the door and removed from it some freshly washed sheets and a pillowcase. Depositing these items on the sofa, Theora then went to the bed to retrieve a pillow, which Edison was already standing over, looking at Bryce with an inscrutable expression on his face.

"He's looking better than he was last night," Edison commented as Theora made her makeshift bed. "It's a wonder what a change of scenery can do for someone." His eyes followed Theora's work, and lingered as she tucked the sheet under the couch cushions. "You need any help with that?"

"No," Theora replied, already setting about the arduous task of stuffing a pillow into its case. She couldn't help but let a tinge of sarcasm show through in her speech. "Sometimes it's expected of a woman to be able to make her own bed, without any help from a man."

Edison chuckled quietly and moved away from Bryce, towards the kitchen area table. "Well, as long as we're both here, you wouldn't mind having a drink with me?"

"I just had some tea half an hour ago if that's what you're suggesting," Theora said, at last getting everything straightened out. She walked over to the kitchen area and sat down in the seat across from Edison, blinking in the light and at the intensity in his eyes. Edison shook his head, his eyebrows shooting upwards. "I was talking about… coffee. We're going to need it if we're going to stay up all night with Bryce."

_Nice save, _Theora thought, one corner of her mouth twitching. "You've got that right. Bryce had a nightmare a few minutes before you arrived. It's likely he'll have one again later, and we both need to be there for him."

"In that case," Edison agreed, standing up, "I'd love it if you could show me where the coffee maker is." Trying to keep the smile off her face, Theora pointed the way and then watched as Edison took out the plastic pod of coffee and fed it to the machine. There was a comfortable silence as the coffee maker did its job, during which Theora kept one ear on the bed's location, until Edison took out a mug from where Theora showed him and held it under the machine's spout, letting the aroma of hot coffee permeate the air. He sat back down at the table, and they both listened for signs of a nightmare from Bryce and avoided meeting each other's eyes.

Eventually Edison heaved a sigh. "I still can't believe that I got him into this mess."

Theora looked up to find that Edison was brooding over his mug, gazing into the liquid's depths as if he was looking for the meaning of life. She tried to comfort him. "I've told you this before, but it could have happened to anyone."

"Theora-" Edison's eyes flashed as he glanced up at her, urgency in his expression. "Theora, what kind of a reporter am I if I fall for a criminal's lies in an interview just because he seems like a good person at the time? Despite what Les told me about Alex, I had to ignore his accusation and invite him right into the place where he could do the most damage."

"You hardly knew what you were getting into," Theora said, trying to raise Edison from his despairing depths. She couldn't take it if both of the people in her apartment were in low spirits. Bryce's mood was forgivable, but Edison needed to understand that what he had done was an honest, if deadly, mistake.

Edison sighed loudly in response to Theora's words. "That's the point. If only I had gotten some kind of clue that Alex was not all he appeared to be…" He got to his feet, scraping the chair back against the linoleum harshly, and began to pace aimlessly around the kitchen area. Theora watched his movement from her seat- back, forth, back, forth- and then got up too. Before she knew it, her hands were on his arms, holding him in place.

"Edison, don't beat yourself up over this," Theora said. "Please. If we're being honest, this mistake had as much to do with Murray and I as it did you. You might have invited Alex to Network 23, but we're the ones who sent him to Bryce. You can blame me all you want, but I hate to see you shoulder all the blame yourself like this."

Edison merely stared at Theora, and then leaned into her body, absorbing her human heat. Theora's arms came around his waist, and they held each other lightly for a while until Edison's lips began skimming Theora's fair forehead. Theora was motionless as he kissed her, working his way down to her temples, her cheeks, and then to her nose… If she wasn't careful, he would end up finishing the kiss that had never started the day before.

But Theora was careful, and she wouldn't allow such a thing to happen. She had had too many men use her in her lifetime. Not only was indulging Edison being unfair to Kent, but it was also being unfair to Theora herself. She couldn't let herself be treated as if she were nothing, because she might start believing that she was nothing and all of the self-confidence that she had worked so hard to build up would fall to pieces. She couldn't go all the way with him, even if she wanted to, because she knew it would only add to her insecurity.

"Edison." Theora fluidly broke out of his grasp before his lips met hers, and he stared at her with dull surprise on his face. He hadn't expected to get very far with her, but at least a bit farther than that.

"I can't." Theora could feel the stress in her as she spoke. "I can't do this- I can't have you do this to me. I'm sorry."

"But Theora…" Edison stepped forward, a bit imploringly, his eyes on her face at all times. Theora shook her head and looked down at the floor. "I just…" Taking a deep breath, she straightened up and looked him in the eye. "It's just not right, not here and not anywhere. I can't fall in love with the reporter I work for. Our relationship would… fail, under certain circumstances." The diamonds around her neck seemed to weigh a hundred pounds.

"But…" Edison trailed off, and exhaled. "I… I thought you…" He looked away from Theora and tried to get the words to flow better. "I'm not asking you to love me. I just thought…"

"I don't do casual intimacy if that's what you're talking about," Theora said with a note of distaste in her voice. "I'm sorry to disappoint you, Edison, but I have to turn you down. Maybe if we didn't work so closely together, we could make it work."

There was a pregnant pause, and then Edison dropped the question on Theora like a sledgehammer. "Are you seeing anyone?"

That was when a terrified Bryce Lynch sat bolt upright in Theora's bed, screaming his lungs out. Theora instantly raced over, her heart hurting for Bryce but also grateful for the distraction. Edison followed more cautiously, almost in an ashamed manner, and stood back as Theora woke Bryce up and, once again, hugged him until he calmed down. "It's all right, Bryce... you're safe with me and Edison." Edison started as Bryce looked up over Theora's shoulder at him.

"Edison…" Bryce whispered, and suddenly the floodgates burst. Edison came forward, his eyebrows mushing together. "Bryce… Bryce, are you okay? I'm so sorry for what I did." His voice lowered to a husky whisper. "I didn't mean to get you hurt."

Bryce's eyes widened. _"You _did this to me?!"

"No, no," Theora blurted, while Edison shook his head. "I didn't mean that, Bryce. I meant that I'm the one who led the man who did hurt you to Network 23. But I apologize with every fiber of myself for that, and I swear to God we're going to get the bastard."

"It's all right," Bryce replied, now listless. "I forgive you." He paused, and for a moment Theora almost thought that he had gone back to sleep until he said, "Edison?"

"Yes?" Edison said, crossing his arms.

"I want to help you find the man who hurt me," Bryce said, and swallowed heavily. "I want to bring him to justice." Though his eyes were wide with fear, they were also glowing brightly with determination. Neither Theora nor Edison dared to try to talk Bryce out of it.

Edison only stayed for a few more minutes at Theora's place before taking off into the night, without any word other than "Goodnight." Theora had a feeling that this wasn't exactly the way he had planned the evening to go. She camped out on her sofa and drifted off into sleep, listening above the TV's noise for any sound that Bryce was having a bad dream.


	7. Chapter 7

_Neon lights and streetlights blinked and illuminated the city as Alex wandered back to his home out in the outskirts of the city. He tapped his black shoes to an unheard beat and spun a straight razor around in his hand, smiling like a drunk to himself as he thought back over the night's revelries. It had been the works with his buddies, and he had enjoyed every second- stealing, fighting, even a rape. Yes, all told, this night had been a success. He could hardly wait for the next one, whenever that might be._

_Walking jauntily home, Alex was so engrossed in his private thoughts that he didn't notice the white-coated men waiting in the shadows before it was too late. He wasn't on alert and so didn't hear as they crept up quietly behind him. When they reached out and grabbed his arms, however, his attention was immediately brought back to the real world. He yelped and thrashed as the men held him down, twisting his arm so that he lost his grip on the razor. It clattered to the ground, and the men sneered as they yanked him up by the arms, spinning him around so that he couldn't escape. One of the men bent over to pick up the razor on the ground, and in a few moments Alex felt its sharp tip prod his back. _

_Neither of the two men made any noise as they pushed him, urging him to walk forward by using the razor, and instead of feeling fearful, Alex grew full of anger. What right did these suddenly-appearing men have to grab him and force him to go along with them? Alex planted his feet firmly, not letting the men move him, and spat on the ground before him. "Leave me alone! What are you doing? Let go of me!"_

"_It's perfectly all right," one of the men said smoothly, and without warning Alex was hoisted, kicking, into the air and thrown over the left-hand-man's shoulder. He shrieked and beat the man's chest and thrashed about, but all of his efforts were in vain. Grunting from the weight on his shoulder, the man took a step forward, and the right-hand-man followed. Still Alex fought his captors, all up to the point where they had come into a vintage abandoned building, where it was too dark to see. He was roughly thrown off of the left-hand-man's shoulder and plunked into a chair with a tall back, the likes of which he had never felt before and yet, in the real world, knew only too well. Shadowy figures moved about in front of him, and he struggled to get out of the chair, only to find that the right-hand-man was in front of him, pointing his own razor at him. "Just sit tight, son, and we'll get you all fixed up," he said, and when Alex rose from his seat, he shoved him back into it so hard that the force left him breathless. Hands were at his wrists, and though he tried with all his might, he couldn't escape the force of the men who were strapping him into the chair._

"_What are you doing, you bratchnies?" he roared as they strapped him in around his chest, so that he felt like he was being put into a straightjacket. Now only his head was mobile, and he thrashed it until one of the men plunked a large metal helmet down on his head. "I told you it's perfectly all right, Mr. Burgess. We are only going to show you some films." With that, wires were connected from the helmet to Alex's forehead. At the touch of the wires on his skin, he stopped struggling. He was trapped, and nothing could be done about that. He just had to wait and see what the men were doing and if he would escape with his life. Though most of his body was paralyzed now, he managed to spit on the ground, right at the feet of the unknown men, and in response the one that had hooked him into the chair jabbed him in the hand with something sharp- it wasn't a knife, because the blade was too fine… indeed, it felt like a needle, the likes of materials used in a doctor's office. Though it was only a brief pinprick, he cried out in pain, milking the injury for all it was worth._

_And then came a soft whirring noise, and a blaze of white light flared up before Alex's eyes, illuminating what looked like a TV screen… but it wasn't, there was something off about it… it looked more substantial than a TV screen, somehow… The light was so bright that it hurt, and he squeezed his eyes shut- until a cold metal force controlled by fingers forced his lids back open, so that he was staring straight ahead and couldn't look away. As the screen blazed, he tried desperately to shut his eyes again, but that strange, cold metal was holding his eyelids open, forcing him to watch whatever was to come. Soon enough, a burning sensation started in his eyes, and he cried out- "What are you doing to me? This hurts!" However, no one responded to his sharp query, and he was at the mercy of the screen before his wide-open eyes, which flashed with an image the likes of which he had seen countless times before. A group of young boys, roughly the same age as himself and all dressed in similar, popular garb, were attacking an older man in an alleyway. He gulped as his eyes began to burn and tried to look away from the screen's image, disgusted by the violence for once in his life. But his eyes stayed open, and the image remained before him. And he was beginning to feel sicker. His stomach churned and rolled as the violence onscreen continued, and all around him he could swear he heard the dirty men that had brought him here break into harsh, vicious laughter._

"_Let me go! I want to go home. Let me GO!" But his prayers were not answered, and sweat rolled down his face and tears poured from his eyes in an attempt to regain their wonted moisture as his jaws opened wide in a silent scream._

Alex awoke from his dream with a start and lunged immediately for the razor that he kept at his side at all times, even as he slept. He sat up and listened intently for the sound of intruders, but there was nothing besides the ever-present TV chatter and the voices of rowdy Fringers on the sidewalks outside. Slowly, his heartbeat calmed down, and he glanced without much emotion at Poncho, who lay breathing quickly on the ground on her side. As far as Alex could tell, she was asleep, but he had some suspicion that she was only faking in order to get some time alone without Alex invading her space. Alex grimaced in Poncho's direction, not liking what he saw. At first she had been a beautiful, strong, and promising devotchka, with a perfectly slender body and long flowing hair that he had enjoyed pulling and ripping at, but now her face bore the signs of Alex's abuse and thus made her less attractive to him. Her cheeks were dappled with bruises and marked with open wounds, which Alex's razor had given her every time she tried to resist his will. Worse than that was the exceptional heat that Alex had felt radiating off of her body. He suspected that one of her injuries had grown infected, and was now wishing that he could just dump Poncho and leave her to fend for herself. But without the benefit of living with a person who couldn't see what Alex looked like, Alex knew he would be caught immediately, if people were following the orders that Carter had given them in his broadcast.

That damn Carter! If only he hadn't alerted the public about Alex's actions. If only Alex hadn't chosen someone so high-profile to attack… If he had raped a Fringer like Poncho, he wouldn't have to hide himself away in a hole on the side of the street, instead returning to London with the satisfaction of having indulged in the old ultraviolence. He might even be living a double life in this city, working undercover with a new gang at night and staying in the Hotel Paris Hilton on the premise of a business trip by day. All Alex wanted was to be free, and that was what he had come to the city for. But here he was, trapped once again because of his actions- it was quite like the time he had spent in the Staja. Just thinking about his past and his present position made Alex's hands tremble with fury, and he decided he had to stop thinking about it immediately. It was time to wake up Poncho.

Leaning over the woman that Alex had saddled himself to, he propped himself up by his hands and carefully unleashed a wad of saliva in her face. Poncho showed no signs of having felt him spit on her, but her eyelids wrinkled up for one second, giving away the façade. Glaring now, and feeling utterly out of sorts, Alex lifted a hand and slapped Poncho across the face. Her sightless eyes popped open with a gasp.

"Get up!" Alex barked before Poncho could say anything, and she wordlessly hoisted herself into a sitting position, drawing her knees up to her chest and hugging them. "What- what do you want, Mr. DeLarge?"

"Shut your rot," Alex ordered mindlessly. It was the same order he gave to Poncho every day. "Don't skazat a slovo until I tell you to." He moved towards Poncho and tugged her unwilling body into his, kissing her split lips and biting them for the taste of blood in his mouth. But it wasn't random sex with Poncho that he wanted, and frustration settled over him. Growling under his breath, Alex pushed Poncho away towards the makeshift wall of her domy and turned around, staring at the open door with a newfound hatred. Oh, what he wouldn't give to be released from this place-!

Poncho began to cough, and the sound was so irritating that Alex whirled back around. "What is it?" he demanded roughly.

"I- I really don't feel well," she gasped between coughs. "Please, Mr. DeLarge, if you'll let me-"

"The supply of pischa is running low, my sister," Alex cut her off. It had been bound to happen at some point- the two had been living together for a week now, and Alex hadn't let Poncho out of her home once, for fear that she would run off and get the Metrocops on his back. For a blind woman, she seemed to be quite clever and crafty, and Alex needed to keep an eye on her at all times. He had broken her spirit through repeated attacks on her, but he figured that would only make her more desperate to escape.

"Pischa?" Poncho repeated lifelessly. She still hadn't gotten the hang of most nadsat-talk words.

"Yes, _pischa," _Alex spat contemptuously. "Food, if you will. There is not enough to last another week. What do you suppose we shall do about that?"

Poncho only stared in the direction that Alex's voice was coming from, her hopeless expression draining away, to be replaced with a toughened countenance full of anger. "If you were merciful," she said, rubbing her arms, "you would go out on your own and leave me here to starve. I don't know why you haven't left the house in a week, unless torturing me is more important to vermin like you."

_House? _Alex snorted; the shoddy dwelling he was in didn't deserve such a title. "I am not merciful, oh my sister," he hissed softly, desperately wishing at once that she could see his eyes and know he was not fooling with her. "You have known the great DeLarge. Merciful I am not, nor will I ever be." Poncho gave no reply, hanging her head instead as if she had realized how futile her position was. Alex stalked towards her huddled in the corner, catching a snatch of indistinct TV chatter from the outside world as he did so. The televised voices bore into his brain and irritated him still further. His harsh hands clasped Poncho's shoulders, longing for a way to take his feelings out on her. She would pay for what had been done to him… he didn't care if she was rotting on the inside, he would show her no mercy in his blows…

"Hello? Poncho?"

Alex spun around instantly, draping one arm around the already-shutting down Poncho so that she couldn't run away. A visitor had stopped by the door, a grizzled-looking man wearing the vintage clothing of what had been called "the punk movement" back in the day, before the punks turned vicious like Alex. He seemed just as shocked to find Alex as Alex was to see him.

"What have we here?" he blurted. "Who are you, young man?"

"The eemya's DeLarge," Alex blurted, and then thought quickly on his feet. He wasn't sure how well this newcomer knew Poncho, but maybe if he used his natural knack for lying he could wheedle his way out of this. The man didn't seem to recognize Alex from the description given on TV yet. Quickly, Alex tugged Poncho forward and slid the strap of her top back up, adjusting her so that she was sitting on his lap. The semblance of sweetness made Alex want to gag, but he forced himself to carry through with it, supporting Poncho when her head lolled back.

"Appy polly loggies for not like introducing myself beforehand," Alex said, smiling broadly. "Poncho and I met this week, and we've been living together. You must be the veck she was telling me about." He held out his hand, but the man drew back, concern and suspicion flaring in his eyes.

"I'm here because I haven't seen Poncho out and about for a few days," he said, his voice cloaked in a thick British accent that Alex had missed. "And I'd like to know what you're doing with her, and why she'd invite a chap like you into her house."

_Like me? _Alex bristled, unable to believe the "judging a book by its cover" injustice that everyone seemed to give him. His smile cracked around the edges, but he held his convivial tone firmly. "For your like information, Poncho has become my droog, and we're-"

"REG!" Poncho suddenly shouted, her hands reaching around, straining against Alex's iron grip. "Blank Reg! He's been holding me captive for a week- he's hurt me-"

"_Shut your rot!" _Alex howled, cupping his hand around her mouth and pressing it firmly against her lips, holding her while she squirmed. A second later, he realized that the illusion had been broken, but it was too late now. Reg stared at Alex with surprise and realization dawning on his face.

"You're the bloke that Edison was looking for," he said. "The one who attacked his friend. I haven't heard nadsat-talk for years, but I'd recognize it anywhere."

"Mmph," Poncho tried to say around Alex's cruel hand, tears welling in her eyes. Alex merely sneered at the both of them. "And you think that you shall be quite a challenge for the likes of me? Let us viddy that, my brother. I fancy that you will not like stand a chance against my britva." His hand groped against the floor for his trusty straight razor, but before he got the chance to reach it Reg had darted into the dwelling with agility that belied his age and hauled Alex to his feet. Alex had no time to react before he was struck in the head by a nasty blow that instantly put him out cold, crumbling in a heap on the ground. Reg surveyed his work for a few seconds before kneeling down to gather Poncho into his arms.

"Come on, Ponch. Let's get you to a doctor. I'll deal with this man later." He lifted Poncho and carried her out of her home into the bright sunlight of a new dawn.

ONE WEEK EARLIER

"Are you done yet?"

Theora couldn't help the words escape her lips as she gazed in wonderment at Bryce, having finished his third plate of eggs. From the moment he had woken up in her bed, she had feared that he might have retreated back into himself, having been afflicted with several more nightmares over the course of the night, but after washing up and straightening his unruly hair on behest of Theora, he had sat down in the driver's seat of the car relic that she owned, asked if he could have eggs for breakfast, and then had talked enough for the both of them. He had attacked each offering of food with gustatory glee, and while it was clear that he was still in a dark mental place- there had been several times in the conversation when he had broken off and stared uncomfortably into space before changing the subject- Theora was glad to see that Bryce was on the road to recovery.

"Yes, I'm done," Bryce answered Theora's question, and looked as if he wanted to smirk at her. "Thanks for breakfast, Theora." He climbed out of the car while Theora took the empty plate from the dashboard and popped it into the dishwasher, closing it up and activating it. Once the dishwasher was churning smoothly, she turned around and watched Bryce with interest as he flopped back against the bed, sighing.

"Cheviot doesn't want me back at work today, does he?" Theora had mentioned that there had been some concern as to when Bryce would be stable enough to go back to his job, but she hadn't told him all the gory details about the argument between his parents and Murray acting as Cheviot's surrogate. Bryce had simply assumed that he was at Theora's because neither of his parents had been able to get away from their jobs, and Theora hadn't had the heart to correct him. She didn't want to upset Bryce by telling him how much his parents were worried for him.

"I'm not sure," Theora said carefully in response, sliding over towards the couch. "I should think he'd like to wait for you to recover, but you probably know Cheviot better than I do."

Bryce nodded and then was seized by one of his silent spells, his eyes glazing over. Theora took the time to remove the sheets from her makeshift sofa bed and fold them before returning to Bryce's side and patting his shoulder comfortingly. Words hung heavy in the air between them- Bryce's account of his attack that was too painful for him to speak, and Theora's questions about how much he remembered that she was too tactful to ask. _But eventually, _she reminded herself uncomfortably, _we're going to have to know what happened… _

"What are you thinking of, Bryce?" she tried to gently ease him onto the subject.

He slowly moved his eyes to meet hers, and they appeared to be lost in another world. Then he shook himself and came back. "Oh… nothing." The reply settled like a stone in Theora's breast. She knew that it hadn't been "nothing" that Bryce was thinking about, and was suddenly determined to draw it out of him.

"Bryce… I know it's very painful for you to remember, but… can you tell me about what happened to you? What Al- what that man did to you?"

Bryce held his gaze with Theora for a moment longer, but when he heard her slip up and almost say "Alex" he cringed and looked away. "I'm sorry," he murmured quietly. "But I think this is something that Edison and Murray should hear as well."

"I understand," Theora said, patting Bryce's shoulder again. She looked out into the open room and sighed, letting the morning TV jingles invade the air. Then suddenly Max's face popped up on the screen, and both Bryce and Theora were called to attention. "Hell- Hello, my friends-friends-f-f-friends!" he cried, looking positively enthusiastic. "Did you miss me? Miss me? Miss me?"

"Max," Bryce breathed, joy lighting up on his face. He went over to the TV set and sat down in front of it so that he could talk with Max more easily. "I'm so glad to see you!"

"As I am you-you!" Max declared. "Those l-l-losers in the medcen wouldn't turn-t-t-turn the TV to in your room Network-N-Network 23. Th-th-they're so unhip it's a wonder their b-b-bottoms don't fall off!"

"I think I've heard that one before," Theora muttered, but she couldn't recall where. Bryce merely laughed.

"Do you have any news to bring us, Max?" Theora asked, standing up and crossing the floor to get closer to the TV. He gazed at her with a _"huh?" _expression. "N-N-news? If you're looking for news, why don't you watch- the news?" He beamed at his bad joke, and Theora resisted the urge to roll her eyes. "Did anything happen last night after Edison left my apartment? What's been going on at 23?"

Max sobered up as much as a maniacal AI could and got down to business. "As you know-n-know, the M-M-Metrocops are no longer s-searching for that fashionable cat who hurt B-Bryce. I've gotten an ink-inkling of the situation, but it's not enough ink-i-ink to write a st-st-story. Apparently some-some-someone in London pulled the plug-p-p-p-plug, and this p-p-person works for the g-government."

"How do you know?" Bryce breathed, his face inches from the screen, a closed expression on his face.

Max grinned wickedly. "Only the g-g-government would hide things that the people are dying-d-dying to know! Know! Thank _G-G-God _they're not actually dying, th-though." He gave Bryce a meaningful look that completely failed to get through to him, but Theora understood what he meant immediately. If Bryce wasn't careful and decided to help Edison locate Alex, as he had sworn he would do the night before, he could end up dead, or just as good as dead. His words from the night before had been haunting Theora every time she got enough peace in between nightmare outbursts to think about them. Bryce didn't have to pretend to be brave to everyone and try to find Alex, no matter how noble his actions were. After seeing what Alex's effects on Bryce had been, Theora would rather have him safe and sound and with his parents out of danger.

"Go on…" Theora urged quietly, and Max did. "The f-f-folks at Network 23 are t-t-turning tricks, and not in the good-g-g-good way, oh no-no-no!"

"What do you mean, the good way?" Bryce asked, but Theora was too mortified to answer.

"I m-m-mean, Cheviot's been st-stewing in his own j-j-juices, concocting-cocting ways to make the ratings r-rise," Max said. "He and the b-b-board have been chit-chit-chatting the n-night away, pulling out all the st-stops. They m-m-moved all of their best-b-b-best programs to later time s-slots, hoping-h-h-hoping that folks would tune in l-l-later, desperate to watch. And by b-b-best I mean the us-us-usual easy viewing- violent a-action, s-sex and p-p-p-promiscuousness, and all that s-s-s-slick stuff-uff. You know- programs you'd fall as-s-s-sleep to! No dirty l-l-language, though- don't want the censors to m-m-muck everything up."

"Max," Theora said, giving him a warning look. Bryce was still watching intently, but his face had gone pale. Max saw what she was worried about, and glanced indignantly at her. "Well, excu-u-u-excuuuuse me! I'm only t-telling the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, so help-h-h-help me God- G-God. Any-anyway, it didn't do much g-g-g-good for them. The r-ratings are still dropping, and it's up to you, B-B-Bryce, to stop them." He stared at Bryce as if Bryce was the Chosen One before adding, "Or, of c-c-course, they could just give me my own sh-sh-show-sh-show…"

"Dream on, Max," Theora said witheringly, while Bryce asked, "Why me?"

Theora turned to Bryce before Max could answer, realizing that he would take it for granted that Bryce already knew about the argument between Cheviot by proxy and the Lynches. "There's been a ratings slump in the day after you were… taken to the med center, and we think it's because viewers found the broadcast that Edison did in your room too exploitative."

"Wait- why was Edison broadcasting from my room?" Bryce asked, confusion clouding his face.

"It was at the medcen," Theora explained. "Edison showed the world what the man we're looking for had done to you. There's been a backlash, but Cheviot wants to regain viewers by having you come back to work as soon as possible, so that they will know you recovered and won't think that Network 23 is just milking your injuries for all they're worth."

Bryce grimaced and looked away, keeping silent, but it was obvious that he wished he hadn't asked. Theora was about to say something to him, but the pause was broken by a burst of song from the TV. "Dream on! D-d-d-dream on! Dreeeaaaaam until your d-d-dreams come truuuuue!"

"Max!" Theora shot him a glare. "Can you please be quiet?" Beside her on the floor, Bryce emitted an involuntary dog-like whine, disturbed by something inside his head.

"S-s-sorry, Theora," Max apologized. "If it's any conso-consolation, Edison is just as off-key-key!"

"May I be excused?" Bryce whispered, and Theora tore her eyes off of the TV to look down at Bryce, sallow and starting to shake. She nodded softly- "Of course-" and Bryce got to his feet, wavering his way towards the bathroom. Once the door was shut behind him, Theora turned to stare angrily at Max, who glanced back at her with a surprisingly guilty expression.

"Did I- Did I do something wrong?"

Theora sighed, expelling all of her emotion, and gazed off beyond the TV set. "No… Max, you're fine. Just try not to interrupt us or make any… rude comments. Bryce has been through a lot, and is still not recovered entirely." She couldn't blame Max for mentioning violence and sex in passing, or really for shouting out song lyrics at awkward times. If she expected decorum from Max Headroom, she needed to remind herself that he was Edison without a sense of tact.

On the screen, Max appeared to shrug his shoulders. "All right-right. Now that my audi-audience has diminished, can I make a remark-r-remark?"

"Certainly," Theora said, hoping that Max would have the sense to stay on topic.

"Ed-Edison was disappointed that you don't t-t-turn-t-t-t-turn tricks-icks," Max said matter-of-factly. "I don't m-m-mean the kind you do on the m-m-monitor. He thinks you're a bit of a- oh, what's the word-w-word- a _cocktease."_

Theora could only stare at Max, the blood draining from her face. Then her fingers curled into her palms even as her stomach dropped. "Edison said that about me?!"

"His a-a-actions spoke louder than w-words!" Max declared. "If I were y-you, I'd get this mis-mis-misunderstanding cleared up and sleep with him at once-on-on-once!"

"How can you say that?" Theora whispered. She had meant to let the words ring out with anger, but instead they dropped softly to her feet and made no impression on the ground. "You weren't there. You don't know my reasons…"

"If it has anything to do-d-d-do with that b-b-boyfriend of yours," Max said airily, "I'd like to a-ask-ask- have you ever h-heard of an affair?"

Theora gasped and surged forward towards the TV before remembering that Max was virtual and didn't have the capacity to feel physical pain. Instead of meaninglessly striking the TV screen, she jabbed her finger towards Max. "Max, you've just crossed the line. Get off the air, now."

"I wasn't even o-on it," Max complained before disappearing in the blink of an eye. Theora stood in place for a few moments to make sure that Max wasn't coming back before moving over to her bed and sitting down, covering her face with her hands. Damn Max, and damn Edison. Hadn't he gotten over his possessive tendencies the last time Theora had been seeing a man? And this time he didn't even know that Theora was with Kent, and already he was shocked that she wasn't falling into his arms like any sensible woman would… Thinking about Edison's high expectations for Theora practically brought steam coming out of her ears. How dare he call her a tease when he was the one who initiated their closeness the night before?

It was then that Bryce returned from the bathroom, and Theora looked up to find him emerging with some color coming back to his cheeks. He offered Theora a small smile as he walked over to sit next to her on the bed. "Where did Max go?" he asked, glancing at the TV, a hint of disappointment showing in his voice.

"He was done giving us the news," Theora said, and inside of her head added _Good riddance. _"I didn't want him to bother you anymore."

"He wasn't bothering me," Bryce said, still staring at the TV. "I missed him." He glanced down, and Theora looked over at him. The cuts on his face were still prominent, but seemed as if they would be completely healed in a few days. Obviously they hadn't been made by any blade, and the glass hadn't dug in so hard. The mental wounds, however, Theora feared would scar and stay with Bryce for the rest of his life.

"Bryce," she murmured, trying to get him to talk again. "What do you remember?"

He looked up at her, his eyes flashing beneath the lenses of his new glasses. "I told you, I'll tell you when Edison and Murray are around to hear. They're part of this story too, after all." Bryce then inhaled deeply and fell silent, squeezing his hands together in his lap. Theora nodded. "I just thought it would do you good to talk about it with me…"

"Theora?" Bryce cut in gently. "Do you remember what I told you last night?"

Theora hesitated, the exact words running across her brain- "_I want to help you find the man who hurt me. I want to bring him to justice."_ But she played dumb, in order for Bryce not to realize her preoccupation. "What are you referring to?"

"I told you and Edison that I wanted to help track down the… the man that hurt me," Bryce said. The light in his eyes dimmed, but he managed to go on. "I know you might think a decision like that is foolhardy, but it means a lot to me. I don't want to just sit in the background, being the- what's the word for someone who is used as a symbol, someone who serves no purpose in the grand scheme of things other than to kick off a crusade? Like the assassination of that Archduke that started the First World War."

"I… I don't know what you mean," Theora said slowly, trying to remember what little history lessons she had had at her pitiful excuse for a school. She also scoured her English lessons, and came up with only one useless tidbit. "In a story, the character would be called a plot device."

Bryce shook his head with a sad, small smile. "Wasn't what I was thinking of. I almost used the word 'martyr,' but bells went off in my head. What I'm trying to say is, I don't want to be pushed to the sidelines in this. I don't want anyone to try to protect me. I'm not used to not being in control, and I won't let that happen to me."

Theora paused, gathering her words, and then began to speak, trying to make Bryce see sense. "Bryce, you've got to remember what Max said to you. Neither he nor I want to see you getting killed because you wanted to be brave. I understand that you don't want to be idle, but you do need to take it easy. You've just had a terrible thing happen to you… you've been traumatized… Some of your wounds aren't healed," she added as Bryce turned his head away, embarrassed. "You've got to remember that it's your life that's in your hands. If you go running after Al- the man who did this to you, and end up confronting him, you could end up in a worse position than after your first run-in. You could be killed, Bryce."

Bryce said nothing for a long time in response to this, his head turned away from Theora and his fists clutching the sheets beneath him until his knuckles went white. Theora guessed that he was trying to not to show her that he was afraid. She reached out and gently stroked his back, and he recoiled from the touch as he would a bomb.

"Bryce, I'm s-"

"What did he do to me?" Bryce suddenly demanded, snapping his head back to gaze defiantly at Theora. The questions he hadn't dared to ask that morning spilled out of him. "Where did he come from? How did you let him find me? Why would he have targeted me out of everyone, and what did he have to gain from it? Why didn't he just kill me? I need to know, _now!"_

"Bryce," Theora tried to calm him, oddly recognizing the look on his face- he resembled a computer that was trying to work out a mathematics problem without enough information given. "Are you sure you don't want to save it for when Edison and Murray are here?"

"No, Theora," Bryce said, fiercely shaking his head. "They already know the answers. I need you to tell me everything."

Seeing that the simplest responses wouldn't pacify the computing machine at her side, Theora slowly shook her hair out and combed her fingers through it, trying to figure out the best way to word her answers. "The man you're referring to was using his status as employee at the Gramodisc Archives in order to tour Network 23. He lives in London, and was invited to 23 after Edison met him on a day trip there." Somehow it didn't feel right to reveal to Bryce yet that Edison had specifically dropped in on Alex after hearing allegations of gang activity against him. "What happened was a terrible mistake, Bryce. He was sent down to the thirteenth floor-"

"But no one knows that there is a Level 13," Bryce pointed out, observant to the end. Theora became speechless. If there was one thing she didn't want, it was to lie to Bryce, but if there was another thing that she hated the idea of even more, it was the idea of him finding out that she, his savior, his rescue in a time of need, had been the one to send Alex on his way to the 13th Level in the first place. Uneasiness grew inside of her, and Bryce noticed the way that she paused a second too late. Computing her facial expressions as well as he could compute a complicated problem, he arrived at the end result with a puzzled, "You told him where to find me? Why?"

"It was an accident," Theora blurted at once, and then sighed, looking down at her lap. "Bryce… you must understand that none of us knew what that man was capable of. We all thought that he was just a harmless government employee who wanted to take a tour of 23. When I sent him to Level 13-"

Bryce's eyes popped wide. _"You _did this!" he exclaimed, as if he had just solved the last step of a very complicated puzzle. But Theora, though she had told Edison the night before to blame her all that he wanted, would have none of it. Trying not to let her temper get the best of her, she tried to explain, "He was hitting on me. I felt that I was in an uncomfortable position, and-"

"_Hitting _on you?" In a second, Bryce had changed abruptly from unfamiliar anger to usual, but still unlikable confusion. "What do you mean? Did he hurt you like… like he hurt me?"

Theora wanted to sigh again, but she knew it wasn't a considerate action to take. It was time to face the facts- Bryce had no knowledge whatsoever of the secret actions that lovers took in the night, or of how those actions could hurt others, and in light of recent events, it was better she explain to him what Alex had done before anyone else took for granted that he already knew. "No, he didn't get that far. But to understand what he did to you- what he wanted to do to me- there's something of which I need to inform you. Under other conditions I would have your parents explain this, but you said that you needed to know now." Besides, Theora had never had any parents to explain to her what sex was. She had only learned about it from the whisperings of girls older than her, and from the scarred, traumatized friends that she had tried to help nurse back to life and light.

"Which is what?" Bryce replied promptly, and Theora crossed her legs. So much for the conventional birds and bees talk. "Here's one for your data files…"

PRESENT DAY

"He's all yours," Rik said, handing a snarling and protesting Alex over to Blank Reg. Reg nodded and clapped Alex on the back, locking him beneath his arm so that he couldn't get away. "Ta, mate. Remind me to repay you someday."

"There's no need," Rik said, adjusting his sunglasses. "They'd better give you some kind of reward for this. It's lucky that you got worried about Poncho in time."

"Yeah," Reg mumbled, glancing down at his shoes. "Luckier that I got her to the medcen in time." He then hauled Alex away, calling "See you, Rik!" over his shoulder. Alex tried to plant his feet in the ground and refuse to move, but Reg's powerful grip forced him along. "You grahzny bratchny!" he roared, so furious that he could hardly see straight. "You shall pay for your filthy sins! You shall pay for keeping Alex DeLarge locked up."

"Now come along, sonny," Reg murmured as if he hadn't heard Alex, herding him towards the waiting van. "I've dealt with your like before. All bark and no bite, eh?" Of course this wasn't true- he had seen the horrific injuries that Alex had dealt his illicit lover, Poncho- but it was more important to humiliate Alex and show him who was boss. There would be no messing around with Blank Reg in the house.

Upon approaching the van from which Big Time Television broadcast, the door to the vehicle flew open and out bounded a large black dog, which rounded on Reg and Alex and began growling at him almost immediately, its hackles raising. Alex sneered right back at the creature, but Reg only laughed. "Hey, Fang! This 'ere's a special guest of ours, who's heading straight to prison. You wouldn't mind keepin' a close watch on him?"

"Reg," simpered a voice from within the van. "Who have you brought here with you?" As Blank Reg yanked Alex into position before the van, he caught sight of flashing eyes and the glowing end of a cigarette, and fancied a beautiful cheena that lay behind the snootiness of her voice. Then she waltzed into view, and Alex could have spat with disgust. This woman was obviously just trying to put on airs that she normally lacked. Her blue eyes were heavily coated in a thick layer of makeup, and her dress flounced around her body as if it had a mind of its own. Her hair was done up in complicated curls, and the expression on her face clearly told Alex that he meant as much to her as a dead bug.

"This is the chap that Edison was trying to catch a few days ago!" Reg declared, triumph written all over his face. "You remember, when he called us up an' everything? I found him hiding out in some scummy hole down in the Fringes and brought the bugger to light. There could be a major reward for turning 'im in!"

At once the woman's expression turned to one of horror. "Reg! We're not keeping a criminal in our house!"

"You call _that _a domy?" Alex stated with disapproval and incredulity. He tried to laugh, but Reg suddenly crushed him closer to his body, which took all the air out of his lungs- the equivalent of yanking a dog's choke chain. Unable to breathe, Alex settled for merely spitting on the ground before him.

"I know he's dangerous, Dom," Reg said in an attempt to placate the cheena. "I saw for meself what rotten things he had done. He'd left a trail of destruction in his wake." Alex wanted to shout that it was all a vonny lie, but he was more concerned with gasping for the air that Reg wasn't permitting him.

"But," Reg said, stepping forward and tugging Alex along with him, "if we just hold onto 'im for long enough, the Metrocops could pay us decently for public service and the like. Y'know, this 'ere's a wanted man, and if Edison was after him there has to be something to it. We could make ourselves a pretty penny, eh, Dom- what d'you say?"

Dom's lip curled, but she stepped back from the door. "All right, all right. I guess he's worth turning in. But wouldn't it be better if we brought him to Edison instead of the Metrocops? You remember he told us that the Metrocops were told to stop searching for him, and acted like he didn't exist."

As Reg's muscles relaxed, Alex perked up. Now here was some worthwhile news, the first he had received in a week. Obviously the Metrocops had been told off by an associate of the Minister of the Interior, who would go to any lengths to keep the news of Alex's return to evil secret. If all went well and these foolish Blanks handled the situation to Alex's favor, he might get off scot-free. Emboldened by this sudden lift in spirits, Alex cried out to the couple, "Please please please don't turn me into the Metrocops! I cannot like bear another year in the Staja… I cannot-"

That was enough to make Blank Reg clap his beefy hand over Alex's mouth, but it was also enough, he hoped, for the seeds to be planted in their heads. He fought a smile from working its way across his face. Perhaps if he begged profusely for Reg to not turn him into the Metrocops, he would do just that, thinking that it was what Alex feared he most. But on the contrary, he would be leading Alex right to where he wanted to be. The Metrocops, against their better judgment, would turn Alex loose and state publically that it had all been a misunderstanding and that Alex wasn't guilty. He would get to go back home in London, discontent to lead a peaceful life, but still in a better position than he would be if he had been convicted. The false memories of the Ludovico treatment that had composed his dream the night before returned to him, and he suppressed a shudder.

"Well, I suppose that's settled, then," Reg growled in Alex's ear. "Into the State Jail with you." Though he slumped in apparent defeat, Alex could have jumped for joy. Reg might consider himself clever, but Alex had clearly outsmarted him this time. He didn't even mind when Reg pulled him through the door and, when Alex struggled for show, he was slammed down in a corner of the mobile home and tied up with rope that Dom found. Though he scowled at everyone and occasionally spat obscenities, on the inside he was elated.

"Pull away, Dom!" Reg cried as she darted into the front of the van and revved up the vehicle. "I think our work here is done!" The dog, Fang, bounded into the mobile home at the last minute, and Reg rubbed its ears as the van began to move. Alex curled into the corner and glared at Fang as it rounded on him, snarling deep in its throat. "Get away from me, you grahzny dog."

"You're not going to get rid of 'im that easy," Reg said knowingly as he sat down in front of a vidicam hooked up to a static-ridden TV. "Calm down a bit and he might start fancying you, even!"

_Ugh. _Alex could only continue to maintain the sullen façade as he avoided Fang and watched Reg's movements intently as the mobile home chugged its way down the bumpy streets. Reg appeared to be broadcasting from the vidicam as a symbol flashed up on the TV screen- a logo that read BIG TIME TELEVISION.

"Greetings to you all from Big Time TV, all day every day, making tomorrow seem like yesterday," Blank Reg said into the camera with a wide, rehearsed smile. "Remember when we said there was no future? Well, this is it. And today's a day for celebration. Let's put on an old favorite of mine- 'Bad Reputation' by Joan Jett!" With a few deft movements, the music video was soon playing onscreen, blaring hard rock throughout the entire mobile home for everyone to listen to.

Alex sat back and groaned as if in pain. Truly, he was sickened by the music, but only because it was so far from the classical compositions that he knew and loved. Fang paced back and forth before quieting and settling into a dog-shaped ball with his tail touching his nose. As Joan Jett blared on and Reg got up from his seat, Alex decided in a snap that he could have some fun on the way to the Metrocops. He could pretend to bargain for his life while actually fillying about with the Blanks that held him captive, and, after having watched Dom and Reg and analyzed their brief interactions, he thought he knew exactly how to do that.

"Blank Reg, my brother," he implored as Reg crossed the floor, presumably to go check on Dom. Reg halted and crept forward warily.

"What is it, son?"

Alex grinned an evil grin and spoke just loud enough so that Reg could hear him over the music, but Dom wouldn't be able to listen in from her position at the front of the vehicle. "That cheena of yours is really quite horrorshow. Does she like know that you have a secret lover in the Fringes?"

"What?" Reg blurted, staring hard at Alex without a trace of a smile. "Dom's my boss. She handles the monetary stuff regarding Big Time TV. She's not my lover, son."

"Then why did you take Poncho to the medcen first before bringing me here, oh my brother?" Alex asked, staring equally as hard at his captor. His blue eyes turned into chips of ice. "Why didn't you like tell Dom that you found me at her domy?" God, his nadsat-talk was rusty. He was convinced there were words that he was forgetting.

"Because Dom doesn't like the idea of me consorting with folks like her," Reg said shortly. "Round here, there are many young girls who make their living selling their bodies, and even though Poncho doesn't go in for that she's easily mistaken for one of them. Dom just doesn't want me to waste my money."

"Are you sure about that?" Alex said, willing Reg to be captivated by his gaze. "Why wouldn't you just tell her that Poncho's harmless? Or do you think that she'd be like jealous and all that cal?"

"Son, what I do with women is my own business," Reg stated stiffly. "And it's none of yours." He started to walk past him, but Alex, in the mood for more fillying, decided to raise his voice to Dom and shout, "Hey, driver! There's something you need to hear!"

"SHUT UP!" Blank Reg roared immediately, grabbing Alex by the collar and hauling him up. Despite himself, Alex couldn't help letting glee fill his face.

"Reg, what's going on back there?" Dom's voice sailed out of the front of the van, and Reg hastened to call back before Alex could answer for him. "Nothing, Dominique! Just tryin' to have a conversation with this chap!"

"Well, converse more quietly!" Dominique replied, and in that moment the air became conveniently filled with silence. With a murderous gleam in his eye, Reg traveled back to the chair in front of the vidicam and straightened out his expression long enough to say, "You liked that, didn't you? Well, it never hurts to play it again." Soon the music swelled once more, and Reg rushed back to where Alex was tottering on his feet, unbalanced due to the ropes that bound his hands behind his back and his feet in place.

"Get down," Reg hissed angrily, pushing Alex over. He toppled easily back into the corner, still grinning that maniacal grin. "Welly welly welly well. I viddy this relationship most perfectly. You are in love, my brother."

"We've danced," Reg said in a tone that begged Alex to shut up. "But that's all it was, dancing. We've never done anything more. What are you trying to blackmail me for?"

"I just want to be released, oh my brother," Alex said in a sincere, plaintive tone. "Surely you can pony that. I cannot go back to the Staja."

Reg grunted. "Well, it's to the State Jail you're going to go." And Alex inflated with happiness, so that he couldn't keep the grin from invading his face. He didn't even mind when Reg headbutted him again and he fell limp and silent to the ground.

"Goodness, Reg," Dominique said when she emerged from the driver's seat a few moments later. "I know he's a criminal, but that's still no way to treat your guests."

"I had to," was all that Blank Reg would say in return, staring with disgust at the unconscious Alex Burgess before him. He didn't dare to look at Dom, for fear that she would suspect ulterior motives. Though it was true that Dominique was not his lover, Reg couldn't help but wish that she was. But who did he love more, Poncho or Dominique? Did there have to be a choice?

ONE WEEK AGO

"I'm only going to tell the story once," Bryce said to his captivated audience of three at Theora's apartment, his voice lacking any emotion, "so you'd better film this if you need to, Edison. I'm going to try to present a clear, unbiased, reasonable account, with no emotions getting in the way."

"Go ahead, Bryce," Edison said, hoisting his vidicam to his shoulder. "Tell us what happened." And so Bryce began.

"I was down in my lab at Network 23, and I had just been visited by Max who wanted to help me perform a technological experiment. It was my deepest regret that I had nothing to do with him that day, as I was already occupied with calculating the angle of rebound after tossing a rubber ball at the wall. Max left me, and I became absorbed in this task. That was when he entered- the man that you're looking for. I didn't notice anything off about him at first. H… he told me his name and said he was from the Gramodisc Archives. We shook hands and… there didn't seem to be anything wrong with him. At least not until he pulled the razor on me."

Bryce took a deep breath and closed his eyes. "I wasn't scared until he grabbed me, put the razor against my throat, and threatened my life. I thought he was going to kidnap me and hold me for ransom. I didn't know he was going to do… what Theora told me he did." Bryce swallowed and opened his eyes, looking away. "I… I got these cuts on my face after he broke my glasses and shoved my head into the remnants." His fingers traced the healing wounds against his cheeks. "Once he- um, once he… had me, I mean, had me on the floor… he… he did what Theora told me he did to me."

"Which was what?" Edison asked, breaking in for the first time, and Theora nudged him with her elbow. "You know what he did, Edison. You don't need to ask. We all know."

"If this is going to be used as a confession tape, we need to prove that Bryce understands all the details," Edison replied coolly, without looking at Theora. He moved his gaze back onto Bryce, who tilted his head and glanced back at Edison with slight anguish in his eyes.

"Bryce, what did Alex Burgess do to you?"

All of a sudden Bryce cringed and covered his ears with his hands, shaking as if trying to block out the sound of the words that Edison had spoken. Theora got to her feet immediately and sat down on the sofa next to him, pulling him close and stroking his hair in comfort. "It's all right, Bryce… it's all right…"

"What's wrong?" Murray asked, staring at Bryce in confusion. Theora spoke quietly, frying Edison with her eyes. "He's got a bad reaction to hearing Alex's name. I've been trying to avoid saying it all morning."

"It's fine," Bryce said, pulling away from Theora and out of her arms. "I'm sorry. I won't let emotions get in the way of my account again."

"Are you sure, Bryce?" Theora said, her arms feeling awkwardly empty. She unthinkingly folded them across her chest. "It's all right for you to feel, you know."

"Feelings only muddle results," Bryce said matter-of-factly. He pushed his glasses up his nose and took a deep breath to steady himself. "Feelings make people biased."

"But you're not a computer," Murray warned him sternly. "You're a human being."

"Sometimes I wish I was a computer…" Bryce mumbled, and Theora's heart went out to him- to immediately snap back into her chest as Edison said, "Whatever, Bryce. We have to move on. Just tell me in your own words- and not Theora's- what happened to you." Theora looked over at him, surprised to hear her name, to find that Edison was staring at her without any trace of warmth or a smile. His brown eyes were hard, glinting like steel. Theora stood up, feeling as if she couldn't let this reaction slide by. She spoke before Murray could attempt to get Edison back in line. "And what's so wrong with my words, Edison? If precision is what you're looking for in Bryce's tape, wouldn't you rather he use the proper terms to describe his attack so that viewers in court can know exactly what he means?"

"I think they'd rather hear Bryce describe his attack in his own words," Edison said lazily, fixing Theora with his stare. "Not the words that you so kindly put into his mouth."

"For God's sake," Murray broke in, "just stop arguing and let Bryce talk! What's gotten into the both of you?"

Sullenly, Theora resumed her seat before the sofa, taking care not to move any closer to Edison than she had to. She herself wasn't sure what had gotten into him. Was he reacting to her refusal of him the night before, the refusal which Max had told her really hit him hard? Well, next to Bryce's story, Edison's petty feelings were of little significance. Theora had Kent and that was all that mattered.

"All right," Edison sighed, surprisingly reluctant to continue the argument. Perhaps he too had realized how important Bryce's story was. "Go ahead, Bryce." He adjusted the camera on his shoulder and peered through its lens.

"He raped me," Bryce immediately stated, as calmly as though he were talking about the weather. "And I don't remember anything after that until I woke up at Theora's place. I shut down. I mean, I vaguely remember being at the med center… but it's as if someone smeared Vaseline on a camera's lens. I can't see anything clearly."

"You don't know where Al- I mean, the man we're looking for might have gone?" Edison asked. "Did he say anything that sounded meaningful to you?"

"I… I don't remember," Bryce murmured, rubbing his temples. "I think he was speaking in another language…"

"Another language?" Murray muttered to himself.

"It's called nadsat-talk," Edison said, repeating the words that Les had told him weeks ago. "He didn't provide you with any clues as to his plans?"

"No…" Bryce rolled his eyes towards the ceiling, searching through his memories. "I… I don't think so. I think his decision to… attack me was spur-of-the-moment. He certainly didn't come in there just to do what he did."

"I see." Edison ended transmission and shut his vidicam off. "Thank you for being brave enough to talk about your attack, Bryce."

"You're welcome," Bryce replied, already relaxing now that he didn't have to tread through his painful memories. "But there's something else I want to be brave enough to do."

"What?" Edison asked as he laid the vidicam down on the floor. Bryce waited until he had made eye contact again.

"I want to help you find this man," he repeated what he had told Theora. "Theora told me it wouldn't be a good idea, but I don't care what anyone thinks. I have to help you out, Edison. I don't want to be a victim and nothing more. Sure, I _could _get killed, but it's more important for me that I receive- what's the word that's like acceptance, where you feel calm after someone who's caused trauma has been brought to justice?"

"Closure," Edison said smoothly, and Bryce nodded. Before he could say anything more, though, Edison jumped in with, "Theora was right, Bryce. I hate to tell you so, but you're in a fragile state. It's a bad idea to have you out in the field with me, directly searching for Ale- this man."

"But I don't have to go with you," Bryce said, speaking more quickly with his expanding eagerness. "You remember when I helped you out as a controller in place of Theora? I'm sure that I could work at Control while you do the physical searching."

Neither Theora nor Edison gave a response for a few moments, and then they both silently turned to Murray, waiting for him to make the decision. It was an unconscious reaction- Murray was older than both Theora and Edison, and was in a higher position of power at Network 23. If anyone was going to make up Bryce's mind for him, it was Murray. He shifted in his seat, feeling the weight of Edison and Theora's stares, but keeping his eyes fixed on Bryce all the while.

"You would give your current job up, Bryce, just to help Edison and Theora?" His voice was quiet but authoritative. "And what about your parents? They've been longing to see you since you were attacked. You can't go back to working right away."

_Although it would please Cheviot… _Theora mused.

"I have a few acquaintances from ACS whom I'm sure would be happy to fill in for me," Bryce replied levelly. "As for my parents, they can wait."

_They've been waiting for six years! _Without looking at Edison, Theora knew that the same thought was crossing his mind. But no one raised a protest against it.

Bryce leaned forward, begging Murray to see his side with his eyes. "Come on, Murray. I understand that you're all nervous for me, but I can't be harmed if I stay at Control and help Theora. I don't want to be a load, like a broken computer. I want to be useful in any way that I can. And staying in the technological department is not useful. It's staying down there that brought… the man to me."

After a pause, Murray sighed and leaned back. "I'll talk it over with Cheviot, but I can't guarantee to you that he'll approve."

"Just try," Bryce insisted. "Please."

"Not to mention that the search is at a bit of a standstill," Theora added, and Edison turned icy eyes onto her. "It's not as bad as all that, Bryce. The Metrocops were ordered to cease conducting their manhunt, and the Fringers are proving uncooperative, but I'm not going to give up." His voice was civil, and even as he addressed Bryce his gaze fell on Theora all the while. She shifted and crossed her legs, suddenly uncomfortable.

"What do you mean, the Fringers aren't cooperating?" Bryce said, in the same moment that Murray got to his feet and excused himself from the conversation, requesting and gaining permission from Theora to use her viewphone to call Cheviot and relay Bryce's demands. Edison finally looked back at Bryce, and Theora's body loosened immediately.

"After reporting your condition from two days ago to the world and showing you at the medcen on my show, 23's ratings have been dropping. Based on the reaction I got from Fringers yesterday when I was trying to track Ale- the man, it appears that most of them have tuned out because they were sickened by your condition and thought that the program was exploitative."

"And all of the people you talked to reacted in such a way?" Bryce said. Edison nodded. Bryce sunk back against the sofa with a contemplative expression on his face, ready to put the pieces of the puzzle together.

"It's true that I'm not too familiar with human emotion, but it seems unlikely that so many strangers would care about one person that they don't know. And it couldn't have been a coincidence that all of them felt that way. Someone in the Fringes must have convinced them all to turn their backs on Network 23… and that someone must be a person who knows me personally." Bryce's eyes popped wide with surprise. "Blank Bruno?"

"Oh, hell," Edison spat immediately, getting up from his chair. "If we have to deal with him on top of Al-"

"Don't worry," Theora interrupted at once before the whole name could struggle out of Edison's mouth. "When we catch him, our story will put Network 23 back at the top of the ratings chart where they belong. And don't forget, we do have friends in the Fringes. There's Rik, and-"

"Blank Reg and Dominique?" Edison said, turning back to Theora and Bryce. "I'm not sure whose side they're on, but come to think of it, it's worth a shot to ask them if they might know where… the man is." He drifted towards Theora's bed and the viewphone, where Murray was holding a private conversation with Cheviot, speaking in hushed tones.

"You're right, it's worth a shot," Theora said, shrugging. "As long as you wait for Murray to finish."

She got up from her chair and sat down next to Bryce, who gave her a small smile that warmed her heart. Bryce's wish to help track down Alex Burgess might have been an unwise decision, but it had certainly brought him as far back to the real world as possible. Bryce seemed much more content now that he had a duty to perform, just as machines were idle until given a task to perform.

Edison paced the floor while Murray talked, and looked up immediately when he stood up. "And the decision is…?"

"Cheviot isn't too happy with the recent turn of events," Murray said, walking back to his seat and eyeing Bryce meaningfully. "But he was willing to let Bryce go for a week, as long as the confession tape was broadcast on TV- admittedly without sound- to prove that Bryce has recovered from his attack."

"We can deal with that," Theora murmured, while a sparkle appeared in Bryce's eyes. "Thank you, Murray!"

"Don't thank me," Murray muttered gruffly. "Thank Cheviot." But the expression on his face suggested to Theora that he was flattered by Bryce's words, which were not as condescending as he expected from him.

"I had the idea to call Blank Reg and ask if he's seen you-know-who," Edison said, already drifting towards the viewphone. "He's sure to help us out."

Murray nodded to Edison as he sat down on Theora's bed. "Good thinking." He lowered his voice as Edison picked up the receiver and dialed the number of Reg and Dominique's trailer. "Theora…" She looked over at him, and Bryce did too.

"Regarding the so-called confession tape…" Murray murmured. "How are we going to get anyway to corroborate Bryce's story?"

"Ah-ah-ahem-hem," sounded a voice from the TV. Murray, Bryce, and Theora looked over to find Max clearing his virtual throat. "I think I-I-I can be of assistance-tance…"

"Stop letting your ego get in the way of things, Max," Murray replied hostilely. "You weren't-"

"Ssh!" Theora shushed her boss, looking over at the TV set. "I think Max has a point…"

"For your information-mation, sir, I was there-th-th-there!" Max protested Murray indignantly. "And I was in a good-g-g-good position, t-too. If you like, I'll show you every-everything that happened-ha-happened!"

"It's okay, Max," Murray said quickly. "We're not really intere-"

"Not inter-interested?!" Max spluttered. "Why, I th-thought that was why you were c-c-calling my name!"

"No one wanted you here," Murray muttered, and Theora shot him a sympathetic glance. Bryce, on the other hand, was the only one who was taking Max seriously. He turned to Theora with excitement written across his face. "This is great! Don't you see? If Max was there and saw any part of… what happened to me… he would have it recorded in his digital memory. Anything that Max saw can be replayed like a tape. We have an eyewitness for when we take this case to court!"

"I don't think that's going to happen," Theora murmured gently.

"Sorry to burst your bubble, kid," Murray stated more bluntly, "but you-know-who is a government employee. We can't just take this to _You The Jury_ and have the audience decide what happens. If you-know-who's in such a high position, he's going to have a lawyer and everything, and the case will be settled the old-fashioned way. Even with an eyewitness, it's not guaranteed that you-know-who will be properly convicted for what he did."

"Ah, c-c-crime and punishment, law and or-or-order!" Max sang cheerily. "Three ch-cheers to the old judicial system, where you're g-g-g-guilty 'til proven g-guilty!"

"I believe I've heard that one before too," Theora said, narrowing her eyes in Max's direction.

"Heard what?" Edison had wrapped up his call and was heading back to his seat. He stopped when he saw Max, and his eyelids drooped. "Oh, was Max making some sort of obscure reference again?"

"I could s-s-sing it to j-jog your memory," Max offered brightly.

"Er… no thanks, Max," Theora said. "I've had enough of your singing for one day."

Max gave a deep and dramatic sigh. "No one here-here recognizes t-true t-talent-alent," he complained, winking out of existence.

"True talent?" Edison murmured. "He's got to be kidding me. Have you ever heard _me _sing?"

"No, and now is not a good time to start," Murray said. "Max just brought us some interesting news." He relayed what Max had said about his recorded evidence, and Edison's eyebrows angled upwards. "This is good news, to say the least."

"So it's settled," Murray said, standing up. "Bryce is to return to Network 23 as soon as possible and work on finding you-know-who with Theora. Edison, you're going to get back in the field and try to find him on your own."

"With some help from Dom and Reg," Edison cut in. "They said they'd be happy to help, and Dom was particularly enthusiastic to report anything suspicious to us. Personally, I think she just wants to be on TV." He chuckled for the first time in days.

"Theora, are you going to continue to house Bryce?" Murray asked. In answer, Theora turned to Bryce, who shook his head. "I'm extremely grateful for your care, Theora, but I think it's better to spend some time with my parents in the coming weeks. I… I don't feel safe in my studio anymore. And they've probably been missing me." Puzzlement was in his tone, as if he couldn't imagine being missed by anyone.

"I think you've made a wise decision," Theora said softly, thinking of both the loss in the Lynches' eyes and the hurt at an apparent rejection in Kent's. "Your parents will be happy to have you."

Bryce nodded. "I suppose I'd better start packing. Thanks again for your help." He stood up and held out his hand to Theora, grinning. Theora took it and squeezed his hand before letting go, and watched as Bryce wandered off to locate his suitcase. With his departure, the rest of the group understood that it was time to head out themselves. Murray stood and made for the door right away, but as Theora got up and drifted longingly towards the viewphone, she felt someone's familiar fingers grab her shoulder, and a voice whispered in her ear. "Theora, could you meet me out in the hall for a moment?"

"I have to make a call…" Theora replied, twisting her neck back so that she could look Edison in the eye when she spoke to him. He inclined his head. "Come meet me out there when you're done, then."

Theora nodded and tore herself away from Edison, checking to make sure he and Murray were really out the door and that Bryce was distracted with packing before sitting down and calling Kent on the viewphone. It took a while, in which the pace of Theora's heart quickened, but finally she got through to her boyfriend at his home. Kent's face stared out from the screen, bathing her in warmth and regret.

"Theora-?"

"I'm sorry for last night," she blurted hastily. "I… I just didn't want you to worry Bryce. He's doing much better now, and is on his way to his parents' home. You'll be able to come see me at night again… my job will take me away from you during the day, as usual, but I promise I'll make time for you in the evening." Sitting back, Theora released the remaining air in her lungs and concentrated on breathing normally again, while Kent looked back at her, a trace of pity in his eyes.

"Theora, are you sure this relationship is working out?" he asked. "I don't want you to feel obligated to make time for me. I want you to want to be near me. And if the job is going to take so much time away…"

"You'll have to expect that when you date a controller," Theora informed Kent stiffly. "You'll have to expect long hours away from me, and sometimes emergency broadcasts in the night. You have to realize that you need to put in a lot of effort to keep us together… and you don't need to feel jealous of the men I work for," she concluded, thinking of the distasteful way he phrased Edison's name.

Kent only paused for a few seconds, and then he said mournfully, "Are you saying that your work is more important to you than- than your lover?"

Theora would have let out a sigh at these words, but then she caught herself. Reviewing everything she had said in her head, she grudgingly supposed it was a fair assumption to make. Her voice turned sweet, cloying, as she tried to bring Kent back to her.

"I'm not saying that I'd rather be at work than enjoy your company. All I mean is, I can't help that my occupation takes time away from being together. But I love you, Kent, and I love to be around you. We've both got to try to make this work out." Personally Theora wanted to shove all the blame on Kent and get it over with, but she realized that it wasn't always fair to consider oneself blameless. Kent nodded onscreen, still not completely convinced, but understanding what Theora was trying to say.

"I love you too Theora. And unfortunately, I have to be at work soon." He sighed. "Can I come to your apartment tonight and talk things over with you?"

"Of course," Theora said, nodding. "See you, Kent."

"See you, Theora." The Disconnect icon flashed on the viewphone's screen, and Theora turned around, uncoiling herself, to find Bryce standing over her shoulder, watching the viewphone intently. Her relief dissolved into surprise. "Bryce! What are you doing"

"Did- did you have your boyfriend over last night?" Bryce asked, his voice oddly still as he tried to work out another problem. Speechless, Theora nodded. What was Bryce getting at?

"I remember him…" Bryce muttered, moving away. Confused now, Theora stood up and went to him. "What do you remember?"

Bryce shrugged off Theora's hand on his arm. "Oh, it's nothing…" He headed back over to his suitcase, lugging it into his arms. That was when Theora remembered that Edison was waiting for her in the hall.

"I'm going to go talk to Edison, okay? Wait here." If Bryce responded, Theora didn't hear. She was out the door in no time, shutting it behind her to find Edison standing with his back to the wall, his hands clasped behind his back and his head in the sky.

"What was it you wanted to talk to meet about, Edison?" Suddenly Max's words from that morning came back to haunt her, and Theora prayed that Edison was sensible enough not to tear her a new one for refusing to sleep with him.

He pushed away from the wall and rounded on her, drawing himself to his full height in order to look down on Theora. "It's about you, and what you were doing with Bryce."

"…what was I doing with Bryce?" Besides comforting him, Theora couldn't think of anything in particular that would have sparked Edison's attention, and certainly not anything that would bring the judgmental tone into his voice.

His eyes sparked. "You think I didn't notice the way you were touching him? I find it inappropriate, Theora, after what he's been through."

For a moment Theora was too shocked to respond, wondering how in the world Edison could have jumped to that conclusion. Then she regathered her wits in time to blurt, "I wasn't doing anything out of the ordinary, Edison. I was only comforting him after he'd had nightmares. You would have done the same!"

Edison only stared at Theora, and then turned away, muttering "Forget it." Theora stood in the hall and watched as he retreated, his back growing smaller until he turned down the stairs and disappeared. She had half a mind to call after him, but what good would calling him back do? Whatever Edison's misconceptions were, they wouldn't be alleviated by Theora's contradicting them. Obviously Edison didn't trust her to tell the truth, even after they had worked together so long.

PRESENT DAY

"You _bastards!" _Alex spat, snarling and twisting in the grip of two Metrocops as they hauled him through the row of prisoners in holding tanks and tossed him into a cell. He ran at the door just as it clanged shut and all that his hands grasped were cold metal bars. The password-protected door blinked its yellow light mockingly.

"How can you do this to me?" Alex shrieked, even as the Metrocops retreated. "I'm not the right man! I wouldn't have done such a sinful thing!"

After days of living on his own in the Fringes, it was difficult for Alex to remember how normal people spoke. The words he was throwing at the Metrocops made him shudder inwardly, but he had realized he had to act the part of an innocent man if he ever hoped to get free. But why were they chaining him up anyway? Had Blank Reg been bluffing when he said that the Metrocops had called off their search for him under orders from the Minister of the Interior?

Sulking and unable to relax, Alex restlessly paced his newfound cell from top to bottom. He listened sharply and heard the voices of other protesting inmates, but the sounds were far apart, echoing off the cold walls. This prison didn't seem nearly as crowded as the Staja from way back when. The TVs must have pacified the people past the point of reason, as had been hoped when the program was implemented. Now they were a way of life, and no human being could live without owning or watching one. Seeing the way that the world had changed made Alex tremble angrily, and he spat on the floor, stalking relentlessly. He had to get out of here. He couldn't have been duped like this.

It seemed like an hour of pacing and growling under his breath before any visitors dropped in. Alex had given up hopes of being released by then, and had slumped down on the hard, uncomfortable cot that was the prison's excuse for a bed, resting his chin on his clasped hands. His mind was calming, moving beyond anger and death threats to clever scheming. How was he to get out of this place? His eyes moved to the barred window in his cell, letting in pallid light. Well, the window might be a good place to start…

That was when footsteps sounded in the hall outside of Alex's cell, and he thrust himself to his feet, watching as a man in a white suit approached the door. "Alexander Burgess?" His brow was furrowed and his eyes were wide.

"What do you want?" Alex asked in a tone that he hoped would make the man shut up and go away.

In answer, the man brushed his fingers against the password protecting device, which made the barred door to the cell swing open. Alex stared at it in disbelief, not sure if he should trust this source of freedom.

"I'm a representative of the Minister of the Interior," the man explained hurriedly, backing away from the door. "We got to you just in time. There's been a mistake- you're not the man that Network 23 wants."

Slowly, the explanation began to dawn on Alex, and a grin split his face. So the current Minister of the Interior was still more concerned with how he did in the new telelections than the fact that he was letting his city harbor dangerous criminals. Filled with glee, Alex stepped buoyantly out the door and promptly saluted the man who was his savior. "Thank you very much, sir!" He immediately pushed past him and strode jauntily down the hall, beginning to whistle as the man called behind him, "Your belongings that you left behind in the Hotel Paris Hilton are located in the main office!"

_Thank you, thank you, _Alex thought, his mind already dismissing the man in favor of looking out for number one. So, even though he had molested a network employee, he had been declared innocent without a trial. Thank the government protection that ruled his life! He could now collect his things, head straight off to the mag-lev station, and go back home to his malenky domy in London, to begin another day working at Gramodisc later on. He could-

The thought was cut short as Alex reached the main office. None of the Metrocops were paying him any mind- they were all intently watching the TV set in the middle of the room. Alex couldn't see the screen properly from his angle in the doorway, but he instinctively crept back as he heard that infernal Carter's voice sound from the TV. "…exclusive tape of the attack," he was saying. "And now, a warning to all viewers. The images presented in the following tape are extremely, graphically violent. What you are about to see is not suitable for children or folks with weak stomachs. Viewer discretion is highly recommended." With that, the tape began, and Alex was shocked to the core as he heard his own voice coming from the TV, issuing insults and orders in nadsat-talk at that boy he had found in Network 23… what was his name… Bryce? Alarmed, he shrunk back against the wall and watched as the faces of the Metrocops changed from blank expressions to horror.

And at once, Alex took off running. He headed through the corridors without a care in the world, shoving people out of the way. At last he was free, blinking in the bright air of the blessed outdoors, and walked away at a brisk pace without even knowing where he was going. He just had to get away from there.

"Sodding _cal!" _The Metrocops were onto Alex now, thanks to that damn Carter. How the hell had he even gotten the footage? Did that Max Headroom have something to do with it? Surely not even the power of the Minister of the Interior's protection was enough to save him now. Alex's first instinct was to find someone and punch them out, but he had to control himself. He had to present a respectable image until he returned to the Fringes and preyed on some new woman… Suddenly the lurid fantasies changed from those of stripping and raping a female Fringer to those of beating his frustration out on Bryce. Yes! If Alex could get to Bryce before anyone else could, he would have to kill him to protect himself from going on trial. Then he would lie low for a week or two, maybe even change his name, until the government officials came in to handle everything properly and silence the Metrocops once and for all.

But how was Alex to get back inside Network 23's headquarters? Not even the guard he had bribed would let him in now, not after today's broadcast.

As Alex pulled up short in front of a building to think, he spied a woman making her way down the street towards him. There was something strangely familiar about her, but he couldn't put his finger on it until she nearly passed him. An image flashed in Alex's mind's eye. He had seen this woman before. She was one of the female controllers from Network 23. Without thinking, Alex slipped silently out from behind her and followed her, catching up to her easily and wrapping an arm around her shoulders. "Hi hi hi there, my pretty molodoy sister," he simpered.

The woman turned her head sharply in surprise, her eyes widening intensely. "You're-"

Alex swung her into the shadows of a nearby alleyway and squeezed a pressure point at the back of her neck, so that she never got the chance to identify him. She slumped forward in his arms, and he carried her away, scheming all the while.

**AN- This is where the story takes a hiatus. I need to work on my novel for NaNoWriMo, which begins tomorrow! See you in December.**


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